


Mountains, Streams, And Magical Things

by peacehopeandrats



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Rumplestiltskin is a king of the magical world who collects magical things for a single purpose, but not all of them are as useful as he hopes they could be. When one of those useless items from the Enchanted Forest causes trouble in Storybrooke it changes the lives of everyone it touches, including the Dark One himself.Nominated for Best Novel Length and Best RCIJ for the 2021 TEAs.Thank you.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 34
Kudos: 12





	1. I Had A Dream I Was A King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/gifts).



> Written for [MarieQuiteContrarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/works/) for Rumbelle Christmas In July.
> 
> The prompts given were: love, light, vacation, shine, breathless.  
> I was also given the following further prompt in conversation: "I love Rumbelle both in Storybrooke and in the Dark Castle. ... I love when they bond with other characters and develop friendships outside of the two of them. I love fluff and sweetness and the two of them solving problems together and being on equal footing."
> 
> I ended up writing a chapter for each prompt and hopefully captured everything that was hoped for. The story title and chapter titles come from [Mountain Stream](https://youtu.be/6AqHPpvVGGc) by Cowboy Junkies, which I have always thought was very Rumbelle, so I guess you could call this one of my music video style fics, just in a very long form.
> 
> As with all of my fics, this one fits in to the one story line and is a sort of prequel to Growing Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for Chapter 1 was Love, which I chose to show in Jefferson and Grace’s relationship and in the love that friendships bring. It might be an unconventional view, but I thought it would be fun to explore.
> 
> The moodboard and my message about this chapter can be found [here](https://peacehopeandrats.tumblr.com/post/624625525265137664/mountain-streams-chapter-1).

* * * The Enchanted Forest - Before the Curse * * *

“Wakey, wakey.”

Rumplestiltskin strode into Belle’s chamber, fingers steepled at his chest, tips tapping against each other with excitement. He wore an elegant combination of browns this morning, ruffled silk shirt tucked into tight leather pants and covered with a leather vest that was such a reddish brown that it was nearly orange. The cravat he wore was loose, the pattern one of lace or feathers. It wrapped gently around his neck, holding up the collar of his shirt while the stiff collar of the vest surrounded everything and stood so tall that it brushed the man’s jaw line. The ensemble was casual, but held just enough flair to suggest they might be expecting company.

Something special was happening today, Belle realized. She pushed herself from her cot and brushed at her clothing in a futile effort to remove the wrinkles left over from the night, then looked up to face her captor.

“Oh, good. You’re already up.” The Dark One clapped his hands in exaggerated glee. “You’ve much to do today, my maid. We have guests to prepare for.”

“Guests?” Belle dumbly repeated the word in an effort to bring her mind to full attention. The man in front of her might have thought she was properly awake, but her own reality was different. His childish tone had pulled her suddenly from a pleasant dream about home, where she had been laughing and chatting with her father and a handful of visitors. Now that she was aware of her true surroundings she couldn’t recall the faces of their guests, but they had a familiarity about them that came with friendship and she wanted to cling to them, even as she was forced to set the dream aside. 

A frown crossed over Rumplestiltskin’s face, his brows knitting together. “Yes, guests,” he scoffed. “Do you think me such a monster that I am incapable of entertaining visitors in my own castle?”

Belle shook her head. “That wasn’t what I meant, I-”

“Well say what you mean, then,” he huffed back at her, flicking a wrist in the direction of the single window. “I don’t have all day to stand around and entertain your ramblings. I have my own preparations to make, you know.”

Taking a deep breath to settle her mind, Belle started over. “What time would they be arriving and how many should I prepare food for?”

“Two. And they should be here by noon,” Rumplestiltskin told her. Belle’s eyes immediately flicked to the window to try and judge the height of the sun, but he noticed and saved her the trouble. “That’s in four hours, give or take.”

She nodded once, both to acknowledge his answer and to thank him for it. “And what preparations do you need me to make?”

The Dark One held up a hand and began to tick items off on his fingers. “I need the two largest adjoining guest chambers made up and ready for their arrival and I want to provide them with a bath. Don’t worry about heating the water, I’ll do that myself,” he added in a rush as her eyes widened and she nodded at the addition, grateful for that little miracle. “I expect a light midday meal will be the best, something made of snacks and bites that are simple yet filling. We will feast in the evening, after they have had some time to settle in. And no cutting any corners. I want our guests to feel as if they are in the castle of the king.”

Belle’s head bobbed as she listened to each point, taking it in, then she repeated her instructions back to him as proof that she’d understood. “Clean and prepare two bed chambers, bring water and arrange the bath, and prepare a light buffet. Anything else?”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “All of your usual duties, of course,” he told her in a casual manner as he turned on his heel.

Belle’s head immediately tipped to the side in defiance, her eyes widening in surprise. “You can’t expect me to do _all_ of those things in only a few hours,” she complained. “I haven’t even readied myself for the day.”

With a wave of the Dark One’s hand a cloud of purple smoke surrounded her and once it cleared Belle glanced down to see herself in her blue work dress. Bedside her, a tray of fruits, breakfast breads, butter, and honey sat in the center of her cot, along with a steaming cup of tea. “Then I suggest you eat quickly,” he said as he strode out.

* * *

It had taken some time for Belle to become properly acquainted with the Dark Castle, seeing as how the only person around to give the grand tour had simply shown her to the dungeon. Every hallway, every closet, and every room in the building was known to her now because she had taken it upon herself to learn the layout, exploring inch by inch until she could practically wander the place with her eyes closed. In the beginning she had been timid about it, worried that Rumplestiltskin would be angry over her wanderings, but the first time he caught her in the hallway he seemed more stunned than worried. She remembered his eyes blinking at her in a way that said he had quite possibly forgotten that she existed, he’d stumbled with words at the time, then blurted out random permission. “Of course you’re given freedom to move about,” he’d said. “How do you think you’ll keep the place clean otherwise?”

Rumplestiltskin was quite the puzzle, but Belle was beginning to work him out. He had an exterior that he let everyone see, but underneath the hard coat of varnish which he carefully applied to himself, the grains of wood did peek through in places. They were tiny designs in intricate patterns, but Belle saw them as plainly as if they had been drawn over the exterior coat in a firm hand that left bold strokes behind. She simply couldn’t understand how everyone else managed to miss the things she saw. After all, some of his actions were as telling as the dark knots left by branches long since detached from the tree. Of course, she thought Rumplesiltskin saw those patches as flaws and so took extra effort to hide them, but that was as telling to Belle as presenting them on a golden platter.

She opened the door to the larger of the two guest chambers and stood, frozen in place while a broom swept past her, swishing the dust from the floor and into oblivion as it moved methodically from one side of the room to the other, turned, and made its way back again. Belle stared at the object as it passed her a second time, then moved inside, sidestepping out of its path to make her way to the four poster bed. The mattress was unmade, but a set of fine linens and a coverlet were neatly folded at the foot and a basket in the center held bunched up cloth that she presumed were the old sheets.

Belle hummed thoughtfully to herself as she hefted the basket and set it on the floor, then turned to look at the broom that had now worked its way to the room’s center. “Now, is he trying to make certain I provide for his guests properly, or wanting to make things easier on me?” The broom froze, as if thinking or trying to reply and she couldn’t help but laugh. “The first one,” she announced, deciding that Rumplestiltskin was somehow listening and controlling the object from elsewhere in the castle. “I thought so, of course.”

As if it agreed with her, the broom continued on the invisible path it was following and Belle shook her head in mild disbelief as she reached for the sheets. The fabric was soft and comfortable, woven to a thickness that would _just_ take the chill from a cool evening but wouldn’t be unbearable if the nights were warm. She flicked her wrists with a practiced motion and the fabric unfolded and billowed in the air before drifting softly to the mattress. When it landed there was a thick slapping sound, made the way soaked wash squished when beaten on a washboard or rock.

“Odd.” Belle’s brow wrinkled. She felt the sheet and the mattress, but both were dry. When the sound came again she paced around the other side of the bed, following the noise to the corner of the room. There, hidden from her original line of sight, she saw a mop, wet and hopping in place as if it were an impatient child waiting for her attention. Rolling her eyes, she gestured at the room. “Well go on, then.” To her surprise the mop moved along, following the path the broom had taken. It seemed to work just as easily without a bucket as it would have with one, always wet and with no signs of dirt clinging to it. 

Belle watched as both of her new helpers moved along in their work. The truth of the matter was that she was grateful to have something to talk to, even if it wasn’t anything that could answer back. It was also good to have the help. She was certain that the tasks put before her today would have been impossible to complete otherwise. Once the bed was made she hefted the large woven basket to her hip to remove it from the room and noticed the stillness that had taken over the space. With their work completed, the broom and mop had settled in opposite corners and Belle wondered if they were awaiting orders or if they would simply vanish once she exited. She moved to the door that connected the two bed chambers and passed the mantle along the way, frowning at the state of it.

“You don’t happen to know a feather duster,” she queried, then turned her gaze to the windows. “Or maybe a wet rag that climbs glass?”

The broom shifted in place to reveal a duster just as the mop moved aside to reveal a damp cloth underneath it. The absurdity of the situation made Belle laugh and shake her head. Then, because she felt is was the right thing to do, she bowed playfully at her assistants. “Why thank you,” she almost giggled. “Your help is much appreciated.” 

She stepped through to the smaller of the two bed chambers, but froze just past the entry, when she heard the things behind her begin to move again, swishing and slurping their way toward her. Belle turned to them with a smile. “That’s done backwards, by the way,” she told the group of items cheerfully. “You generally do the washing and dusting, _then_ the floors, so it cleans up everything that falls down.”

If she ever suspected the objects were controlled by Rumplestiltskin’s magic before, she was certain of it the moment the mop and broom drooped in response to her words. The posture was so much like his when he was deflated by some setback that it was almost comical. Belle fought a laugh and smiled kindly at the objects now frozen by her correction. “I tell you what. I’ll make the bed in the next room, you work in here, and when I’m done we’ll switch and I’ll make sure everything in here is settled. All right?”

At this the broom, mop, duster, and rag seemed to perk up, so she curtsied as best she could with a basket on her hip and left them to their work.

* * *

Grace stared up at the iron gate that towered over them. “It’s so _big_!” She moved to touch the stone wall that the barrier was set in and peered through the large squares that made up the thing that denied their entry. Turning her head in every direction to try and get a glimpse of the garden that lay beyond, she called out a simple, “Hello?” When no answer came, she looked up again, into the nearest tower, then turned to her father. “Papa, who opens the gate?”

“Rumplestiltskin, I suppose.” Jefferson shrugged and their bags shifted uncomfortably on his back. They hadn’t really had that much to bring with them, but it had been too difficult to deny Grace the chance to pack her own bag. He’d wanted her to feel as if they were on a grand adventure, even if it meant bringing along a little extra. “Never really thought about how the gate worked before.”

“Has it really been so long since you were here?” His daughter turned to face him now, eyes wide with wonder.

“Yes,” he told her, bending to tap her on the nose. “Not since before you were born.”

“Well I’m five,” Grace reported as if he hadn’t known. “So it’s been longer than that?”

“Yep,” Jefferson told her, shifting the straps on his shoulder to distract him from some of the memories made while working as the Dark One’s personal thief. “Longer than that.”

“Which is far too long a time, if you were to ask me,” a childish voice broke in. The Dark One’s familiar giggle followed shortly after, along with the clanking of the metal gate as it rose to grant them entry. “Your papa was a great help to me in the past, you know.”

Grace stared at the man who had magically appeared before them. She had been told about their host and the simpler points of his curse, so she knew what to expect, but her eyes still widened to giant saucers. Mouth hanging open, she managed a small wiggle of her fingers as a silent greeting, which the Dark One returned playfully, managing to make the gesture look like a secret kept between the two of them.

Jefferson took in a deep breath, torn between the loss he’d suffered since his last visit to the castle and the pleasure of seeing an old friend after years spent apart. He wasn’t the portal jumper any more, no longer eager for adventure and excitement, and one look at Rumplestiltskin’s face told him they both knew it. Eventually Jefferson pushed his mouth into a smile, but didn’t let it reach his eyes. The Dark One never acted out of pure kindness and if he could hold on to a secret meaning behind their invitation to the castle, then Jefferson had every right to do the same. “Rumplestiltskin.” He greeted the man before them with a nod, then reached out to put a hand on the top of Grace’s head. “This is Grace. Grace, this is my friend Rumplestiltskin.”

His daughter quickly gathered herself and offered a genuine smile. “How do you do?” She then gave the Dark One the kind of curtsy that only a five year old could manage, one that perfectly combined skill with imbalance.

The Dark One bowed to her with a flourish, before flicking his wrist and Jefferson felt the weight of their bags vanish from his shoulders. “At your service, dear lady,” he said softly. “Though I think we can dispense with formalities. Rumple suits fine, don’t you agree?”

Grace nodded vigorously, weight shifting from one foot to the other as she tried to peer around the castle’s owner to get a proper glimpse of the garden beyond him.

A wide grin spread over Rumplestiltskin’s face as he stepped aside. “Would you care to enjoy the gardens for a while?”

“May I, Papa?” She turned and beamed up at Jefferson, eyes gleaming.

He squatted to the ground so that their eyes could meet and smiled at her. “Of course you can, but when we call you for tea, I need you to come in, all right?”

Tiny arms flung around Jefferson’s body and he reacted in kind, squeezing his daughter with as much strength as he thought her small body could stand. “I will,” she promised before dashing away.

“She’s a beautiful girl,” Rumple told him as he watched Grace disappear down a path behind one of the well kept hedges. “You’re a lucky man.”

Jefferson nodded, even as he sighed away the sadness that had given him this life with his daughter. “I am.” Flashes of his visit with the March Hare threatened him, but the sounds of Grace’s laughter quickly washed them away. He turned to his former employer, eyes narrowing at the expression on the man’s face. 

The Dark One’s own eyes seemed clouded with memory, his gaze distant, but whatever consumed him was gone the moment he spun toward castle’s large wooden doors. “Shall we, then?” He walked from the gate without a backward glance, strutting to the castle doors in such a way that flaunted all of his best assets. Rumplestiltskin was a master manipulator and after only a few strides he had pulled the old, flirtatious Jefferson out of the serious, struggling father. “I’ve sent your bags to your rooms, of course, and my maid should have some food ready shortly.”

Letting out a breath of frustration, Jefferson rolled his eyes. If the Dark One was going to dare him to leave the past behind, who was he to argue? He dashed after the other man and called out in surprise. “Maid? Is that what you’re calling your students these days?”

“No, no,” his friend tisked, wagging a finger as he spoke. “I still have my students, but I needed certain things done around the castle and for that I needed someone with _other_ abilities.” The way he emphasized “other” made Jefferson’s eyebrows lift.

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Well, if you choose to call her your maid, then, for the sake of decency-”

The Dark One froze, mid step and twisted his body to properly face Jefferson. “I call her my maid because she _is_ my maid.” He scowled, eyes narrowing. “Why does everyone assume I brought her here for…” The cursed man swirled his hand in small circles while he fumbled to find the right word. “ _That_?”

Jefferson shrugged, still smiling. He gazed up at the building in front of them, then gestured to the garden walls that surrounded it. “Well, you know… Big place like this gets lonely with only one person inside of it.” Bending to bring his mouth closer to his friend’s ear, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that held a hint of flirtation within. “And since you don’t have dalliances with your guests…”

Rumplestiltskin flapped his hand at Jefferson’s face the way someone would shoo away a bug. “Casual dalliances lead to trouble,” he huffed, voice thick with some otherwise unspoken memory. “Besides, I much prefer my solitude. Easier to think.”

“Of course,” Jefferson agreed, knowing it wasn’t the whole truth. He bowed a little, hoping to catch Rumple’s eye, but the gesture went ignored. Their little game of flirtatious torments had lasted years and was played as randomly as they met and currently they seemed to have settled somewhere in the middle between near acceptance and amused disinterest. A playful rejection didn’t mean Jefferson would stop trying, though. Once he got Rumplestiltskin going, their interchanges were entirely too much fun to give up on. “Well, Grace and I thank you for your hospitality in any case.”

The Dark One nodded and moved on again, continuing their conversation as if he hadn’t been interrupted moments before. “I also took the liberty to have a bath readied for the two of you. It will be warm whenever you are ready, so you can use it as you wish.”

The thought of a proper bath almost made Jefferson melt, but he tried to rein in his enthusiasm. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I can’t help but wonder what all of this is about.” His stride shortened once he caught up to Rumple again. For being the shorter man, he could certainly keep a brisk pace when he wanted to.

The Dark One turned to blink at him, one hand flourishing through the air as if casting aside a useless thought. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You did send your carriage for us with a rather cryptic letter inside asking for me to come to the castle and inviting Grace along for the ride.” Jefferson’s gaze lifted to scan the garden. He couldn’t see his daughter for the mazes of hedge, but he noticed that the gate was closed and heard the echoes of her voice drifting on the wind. Still he lowered his voice to prevent her from overhearing. “When you make gestures like that it means you need something. I don’t do the kinds of things you once had me do for you. Not any more.”

Rumple flapped his hand again. “Oh, I didn’t expect anything like that,” he scoffed, though his eyes told a different story, an expression Jefferson had learned how to read years ago and recognized as certainly as he could words on a page.

“You do, though,” he insisted, pointing a finger at the smaller man. “I knew it.” He felt his jaw tighten. “I knew I shouldn’t have-”

Hands clasped his arms to still him and Jefferson blinked with surprise. Rumplestiltskin placed himself somberly in front of him again, suddenly presenting himself as someone softer and more alone than Jefferson had ever known before. “I _do_ need a favor,” he admitted. “But I can promise you won’t leave this realm while providing your services. Hear me out and if you reject my offer, you can leave for your home without any fear of my calling on you again.”

Jefferson hesitated for only a moment. The man before him may have many stories told about his horrible deeds, but underneath them all was someone who kept his word. If he said there would be no portal jumping, Jefferson believed it. “All right,” he agreed at last, before putting on one of his devilish grins. “Now, I believe you said there would be food?”

* * *

Serving the evening’s meal was a difficult task for Belle, not because they were eating in the grand dining hall or because she was the only one preparing the food, but because she was constantly having to maneuver around the shenanigans of the castle’s other inhabitants. It began with shrieks from the hallway which forced her to drop everything and come running from the kitchen only to discover that Jefferson had his daughter upside down over his shoulder, fingers tickling at her sides. It took every effort not to repeat her unnecessary act of heroism when she heard the noise again, but after a few minutes she trained herself to set aside her protective instinct and allow the two their game.

Once she adjusted to ignoring the child’s pleas for help, Belle found that the kitchen suddenly became the castle’s main thoroughfare. Rumplestiltskin first wandered through, sniffing the air, then hovered at her side to watch her check the meat, remove rolls from the brick oven, and skin the vegetables. He left as randomly as he arrived, only to be replaced moments later by a cheerful Jefferson. To his credit, their guest did offer his services as he flopped himself down at the kitchen table even though the only work left was the serving. After a brief chat he also departed and Rumple returned under the guise of inspecting the cleanliness of the room.

Having had enough of this, Belle thrust her hands to her hips. “Rumplestiltskin, you-”

The Dark One’s finger shot up to his lips and his eyes went wide with surprise. He almost danced to the wall, where he pressed his back flat to the stone surface before peering around the entrance to the corridor.

“What _is_ going on?” Belle wanted to know.

She was rewarded with a cheerful, “Caught you!”

Hanging his head in defeat, Rumple stepped from the wall. “Captured in the forbidden kitchen,” he sighed.

“If the kitchen is so forbidden, why haven’t I been alone for the last hour?” Belle cocked her head at him, eyebrows raised. She tried to keep the annoyance from her voice, but some lingered, the hint of it disturbing Grace.

“I’m sorry,” the girl said timidly. “We were playing at herding. They were trying to steal a bite to eat and I was supposed to chase them away.”

Belle’s eyes shifted from the girl to Rumplestiltskin and back again. Her mind worked at something to say, but found that it couldn’t escape the absurdity of learning that the Dark One had been playing games to entertain his youngest guest, and not only that, but he had managed to do it right under her very nose.

“I only took bit of bread,” he pouted, opening his hand to reveal the golden brown color that exactly matched her freshly made loaf. Belle hurried to where it sat and turned it, noticing the small chunk that had gone missing, then glared up at Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One looked as if he were a child, scolded by a parent for having been caught stealing sweets before meal time.

“Well _I_ got a whole carrot!” 

Jefferson’s voice made Belle jump and she whirled on him, glaring down at him in the chair he seemed to have magically reclaimed. “How did _you_ get in here?”

“Quietly,” the man admitted as he stretched his legs to prop his feet on the seat opposite to his own. Taking a dramatic bite of the orange root in his hand, he waggled his eyebrows playfully until she swatted at his feet to force them back to the floor.

Grace giggled.

“Well if we aren’t having dinner at the dining table, will someone please tell me now?” Belle looked from one man to the other, waving her hands through the air to gesture at the food spread before them. “Because I’d be happy to feed you right here, if-”

A whoosh of magic swept Rumple, Grace, and most of the dinner out of the room, leaving only a shocked Jefferson and two serving trays behind. The man stood and came to her side, setting down the carrot in favor of lifting one of the trays. “Not the man you thought he’d be?” The words were whispered, Jefferson’s eyes refusing to leave the tea set as he lifted the tray.

“Hardly,” Belle admitted, the word a breath. “I don’t know what’s gotten in to him. Yesterday he was… well, Rumplestiltskin… Today he’s… something more.”

Jefferson offered her a warm smile. “Must be the company.” The wink that followed seemed to hold a secondary meaning and left Belle wondering which definition of the word “company” the man was using.

* * *

Sitting in his high backed chair, Rumplestiltskin chatted easily with Jefferson about the news of the realm. In an unspoken agreement, the two men avoided all conversation of work to prevent Grace from coming to understand her father’s past. Still, Rumple knew that Jefferson wasn’t one to wait around eternally for instruction. Leaving him in the dark for too long would force the topic into the open eventually and the Dark One would need a plan for when that happened. There was still some time to come up with something, Rumple only wished he could arrange to have a few days more of it.

If the former thief thought it odd that the maid joined them for the evening meal, he kept the notion to himself, acting as if the castle’s only four occupants belonged at the same table, regardless of station. Jefferson’s easy acceptance of the situation was a relief. Belle had hit it off with their guests and Rumple hadn’t been looking forward to sending her to the kitchens for her dinner as other guests often had to remind him to do. Casting her aside, as one should do for a maid, felt wrong in a way that twisted his chest into a formidable knot.

“Picking mushrooms is fun,” Grace was telling them. “It’s like hide and go seek, but with things instead of people.”

“Plenty of mushrooms in the woods here,” Rumple told her as he forced his eyes from Belle and onto the napkin that he moved from lap to table. “Maybe in a day or two you can go with Belle to help replenish my supply.”

When he looked up there was no way to measure if Grace’s or Belle’s eyes had opened widest at that news, but it was the girl who spoke up. “Oh, could we?” She looked from one adult to another, head twisting about with eagerness.

“If you stay close to Belle,” Jefferson told her. “I don’t think Rumplestiltskin wants her to get lost outside the castle walls.” He flashed a knowing look at Rumple, something that combined understanding with the narrow eyed gaze of a man who disapproved.

“We uh, won’t go far,” Belle promised once she finally found her voice. It held a quiver of timidity, though her posture radiated a confidence that forced that knot to come to Rumple’s chest again.

“All right, it’s a deal.” He set his fork down on his plate and gestured at the now empty platters in front of him. “I believe you outdid yourself tonight, Belle. The food was magnificent.” The minute the words left him, he worried they would be taken as the wrong kind of praise. Would she see the mushroom outing as a reward for a job well done? To cover his feelings, he fidgeted with his place setting, adjusting the arrangement of his plate and goblet to the left or right by minute amounts. His head tipped downward as he worked through his sudden restlessness, but he snuck a glance across the table to judge Belle’s reaction.

At the farthest point from him, Belle’s eyes cast themselves downward and Rumple imagined he saw a flush come over her cheeks. She clearly took the praise for the compliment that it was, which settled his nerves, though he couldn’t understand what about them needed settling. 

“That’s kind of you,” Belle muttered sheepishly before looking up at their guests. “There are berry tarts if anyone would like something sweet to end with.”

“Oh, yes please!” Grace clapped her hands with glee at the news.

“Later,” Rumple barked as he pushed away from the table, the odd feelings inside of him nudging his level of frustration higher. The word came out harsher than he intended, making him flinch as he stood. The group blinked at him with near simultaneous precision and he flapped a wrist to cast aside their worries. The motion served the dual purpose of whisking a grand music box into existence in the corner of the room and with a snap of his fingers magic pushed at the gears, turning them at the perfect speed to produce a tinkling waltz. “Can’t have it be said that the man of the castle failed to provide entertainment.” He gestured at Belle to clear the table, then turned to Grace, offering a hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Grace put her hand in his and hopped down from her chair. “Of course, my king,” she answered, giving another of her courtesies.

Rumple laughed as he guided her to the open area by the fireplace. “Hardly a king,” he reminded her.

“You’re in charge of the castle and everything around it, aren’t you?” She blinked up at him as they crossed the floor, then waved him down to her level once they were far enough away from everyone else that they couldn’t be heard. Her eyes flicked to the table, where her father was suddenly very busy stacking plates for Belle to carry away, then she giggled and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s okay, I know you’re not really a king. It’s just pretend. I’m not really a lady either.”

Though he smiled at her, Rumplestiltskin felt a pang of sadness at the words. He found his eyes drifting to Belle who was exiting the room with an arm full of used dishes, a lady no more. She sacrificed everything for the sake of her people, along with whatever dignity she held before he’d whisked her away. She deserved kindness and companionship, not to be used as some pawn in his long standing game against time. His heart skipped suddenly as Grace’s words drew a picture in his mind of Belle in fine cloth, gliding across the floor to the music with all the poise and grace of a woman with her upbringing and he wondered which of them was unworthy of the other. Without the darkness he could just as easily have been serving _her_ every whim.

A hand at his sleeve made his mind snap back to the small girl in front of him, poised and ready to be guided along the floor. “I’m not very good,” she admitted.

“Practice will change that,” Rumple told her as he took each of her hands in his own. “You can copy my steps, if you like.”

Grace nodded and glanced down at where they stood as they began. Rumple moved slowly at first so that she could pick up on the pattern of steps, then eased her into a more normal pace, but after a minute or two, found the steps less important than the giggles that came from her as they moved around the room. Formality forgotten, he began to take his enjoyment from entertaining the girl and lost all sense of what else was happening around him. He lifted Grace and twirled her, sometimes feeling a pang of loss as her laughter filled the room, but letting the sound lift him even as it made his heart stutter for what he’d lost. It had been too long since he’d experienced the innocence of a child’s view of the world and he missed it dreadfully.

“Mind if I cut in?” 

Jefferson bowed before them, arm outstretched, and Rumple passed his daughter over with a graceful flourish. It was only then that he realized the three of them were the only ones in the room. His head spun as he caught sight of the empty table and his eyes darted around the room while his fingers rubbed nervously at each other. Belle couldn’t have decided to simply leave them. She’d promised sweets for after the meal. 

“She went to do the washing,” Jefferson whispered as he danced past.

Rumple shook his head. “Pardon?”

“Belle,” the other man said with a smirk, his voice louder this time. “Your maid. The woman you brought here to clean up for you?” The words moved around Rumplestiltskin to the tune of the waltz, drifting away and drawing closer as the steps pulled the speaker over then pushed him away. Then Jefferson’s lips were directly at his ear, making him jump. “That’s who you’re looking for, isn’t it? Unless you’re looking for the attentions of someone else…”

Without thinking the Dark One practically flailed, causing Jefferson to dodge to one side to prevent an accidental blow. “Of course I’m looking for her,” Rumple huffed. “She claimed to have tarts ready for us.”

Jefferson leaned close again, his words barely audible over the music. “Not buying that.”

“Papa.” Grace’s voice thankfully drew the man from Rumplestiltskin’s personal space. “Can we have a court dance? I hear about them all the time, but I don’t ever get to see one and we’re in a proper castle now, just like kings and queens.”

“Those dances take more people,” Jefferson told her. “I think we’d need to find someone other than just the three of us for anything like that.” Rumple knew the man was fishing and he wasn’t going to have it.

The Dark One wiggled his fingers at the distant wall. “I can make the armor come to life, if you wish. Or the paintings.”

“What about Belle?” Grace’s question made Rumplestiltskin blink with surprise, not because he hadn’t thought of including her, but because Grace _had_.

“Yes, Rumplestiltskin, what about Belle?” Eyebrows raised, Jefferson shot a wickedly tempting smile his way. “If we added her we could manage a simple circle, wouldn’t you say?”

Rumple scowled at the other man, eyes narrowing. Jefferson _knew_ exactly what he was doing and the grin told him the man wasn’t the least bit ashamed of getting involved in his host’s affairs. Now he would _have_ to find something to keep Belle occupied, if just to deny Jefferson the satisfaction of being right.

Innocent of the goings on in her absence, Belle chose that precise moment to walk into the room with the tray of desserts and Jefferson dropped out of the dance instantly. In two strides he had placed himself in her path, one leg extended in a deep bow, hand outstretched. “May I ask the lady for a dance? We seem to be one short.”

“Well, I…” Belle looked at the food, then lifted her eyes and the moment they locked with Rumplestiltskin’s he knew he would give in. “There’s more I should be doing. The rest of the dishes need washing and your bed should be turned down-”

“Never mind all that.” The words escaped Rumple’s mouth in a rush, before he realized he had even thought them. The room stilled as all eyes turned to where he stood, expectant and hopeful. Exaggerating the sigh that followed, he lifted an arm and drew it through the air to call on his magic to finish her tasks. Again. “There. It’s done,” he snapped, emphasizing an anger he didn’t feel. “Now come. We can’t deny our guests, especially when one insists on comparing me with kings and queens and puts my very reputation at stake.”

As Belle walked forward, he guided his magic to exchange her common dress for the golden one she had worn the day he brought her to the castle. The tiny jewels glinted in the light of the fire and Rumple found Jefferson’s eyes wandering over them in appreciation of either their design or the curves they adorned. For reasons that he couldn’t understand, Rumple found his blood boiling at the idea of Belle being the reason for the man’s attention. When Jefferson finally looked up, he lifted an eyebrow in an appreciative expression and that set Rumple on edge.

“Fathers and daughters together first,” he blurted, reaching out a hand to snatch Belle from Jefferson and position her so that they would face each other. 

“Happy to oblige,” Jefferson countered as he bowed to Grace.

Rumplestiltskin altered the music box to play a more fitting tune, then reached for Grace’s hand before grudgingly taking the one offered by Jefferson. “We’re meant to alternate, of course,” he told the girl, who nodded excitedly. 

The four managed well enough to please a child’s imagination, turning as one around an invisible point before breaking into pairs that circled each other and joining the group again. Palms together they turned the circle one direction, then switched hands and reversed their course, the adults improvising various dance steps to accommodate their small number. Rumplestiltskin watched father and child laugh together, eyes bright, and forced his worries aside for the evening. There was no greater brilliance than the joy shared between a parent and their child. He knew it well and he would feed the love he saw before him until the flames of it consumed their entire building. He had to. There was no option for failure.

“You made a lovely evening,” Belle told him when next they were paired together. “Grace is simply bubbling.”

He watched as Jefferson lifted his daughter into the air, breaking from the dance to twirl her around. “She’s not the only one.”

Belle tipped her head at him. “Why did you ask them here?”

The Nights pleasures forgotten after the accusation of having an ulterior motive being pinned to him, Rumple turned a frown to her. “What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t do all of this for your other guests. If you feed them you send them on their way.” Belle moved gracefully around him as the steps changed. When their eyes met again, they were amused, but held concern somewhere in their depths as well. “There is something you aren’t telling anyone.”

“My dear, there is _always_ something I’m not telling anyone.” Rumplestiltskin chuckled but felt no real pleasure in the words. The truth of the next few days hung over him, just as the future of his friend had flashed through him only days ago. He owed much to Jefferson and he knew all too well the pains the man would face in the time to come. Whatever the price was for the comparatively few hours of happiness that he could give Jefferson and Grace, Rumplestiltskin would happily pay it.


	2. A King Of Empty Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for Chapter 2 was Light. This chapter ended up much longer than I intended, but I wasn't about to skimp on my other prompt of Rumbelle working with others. If the witch in the story sounds familiar, you might know the Russian folk tales of the Baba Yaga.
> 
> The moodboard and my message about this chapter can be found [here](https://peacehopeandrats.tumblr.com/post/624627167555403776/mountain-streams-chapter-2).

Jefferson puffed out a huge breath as he climbed the last few feet of the mountain ridge that would put him back onto the road toward the Dark Castle. The staff he’d agreed to steal for Rumplestiltskin had actually come in handy on the long trek up the slope, though he was certain he’d gotten a splinter in his palm from the unpolished wood along the way. The whole task seemed unnecessary, though he’d done it anyway as payment for Grace’s week of pure happiness and luxury. She had been so young when she lost everything, she deserved these days in a grand place where everything she ever wanted was right at her fingertips. His daughter was always brave and never complained about what they didn’t have, but that bravery cost her a pinch of innocence every day, flattening her smile and replacing the joy of a child with the worries of adulthood. Here her eyes sparkled in a way that he hadn’t seen since before he lost Priscilla and he would have happily climbed _every_ ridge surrounding the Dark Castle if it meant he could see Grace so alive when he returned.

He knew that the life of a noble woman was a treasure that Grace could hold on to for years to come. She already told herself elaborate stories about the feasts at court that were followed by grand dances, her imagination filling the Dark Castle to overflowing with guests and servants. Within the walls of the garden she was free to run and play outdoors until she dropped from exhaustion and Jefferson never had to worry about where he would find her napping. She adored Belle, copying her mannerisms in secret, and had even begun calling Rumple her Uncle, a title that the Dark One pretended to accept when it was quite obvious that he wanted to argue it away.

Now that he was on the road, gray stone walls loomed ahead and Jefferson smiled as he approached. He and Grace were safe here, they were well fed and slept better than they had in ages. Belle was the kindest woman, pure of heart and intention, and he was beginning to cherish their budding friendship, and while the Dark One came with a reputation, Jefferson had come to know the true man behind that mask. Rumple’s friendship was older and may have held certain expectations, but it wasn’t as if it were false. Their relationship had been born of… 

Sudden confusion made Jefferson stop in his tracks and turned his mind back on itself to work out the events leading to their first encounter, when Jefferson had almost literally run into the Dark One while trying to escape capture. With a flick of his wrist, Rumplestiltskin had transported them to his castle and the two had easily struck up a conversation full of innuendo, grand schemes, and playful flirting. That had been the beginnings of their collaboration, a companionship built on usefulness with a dash of fun thrown in to taste. And here he was, still being useful. 

Jefferson stared at the wooden staff in his hand. Though it felt like little more than a glorified walking stick, it had to contain some magical significance if Rumple asked him to steal it. The Dark One did nothing without reason and that included casting people aside. With the loss of Priscilla things had changed between the two men, including Jefferson’s usefulness, and the Dark One had simply tucked him away, just as he had done to everything else that no longer held value. As he began to move forward again, Jefferson wondered if life collecting dust was actually worse than one collecting trinkets and… well… giant sticks.

When the castle gate raised to grant him entry, Jefferson heard the bubbly sound of his daughter’s laughter along with the rapid strike of shoes on stone and he knelt only feet from the castle wall in expectation of being pounced on.

“Papa!” Her voice hit him before her body did as she rounded a hedge and flung her arms around his neck.

Jefferson squeezed back, lifting his daughter and taking her with him as he properly entered the garden, following one of the paths to a bench hidden away in among the many manicured hedges. “How was your day?” His words mingled with a groan of happiness as his arms refused to release her.

“Belle and I were reading and writing in the morning,” Grace told him with enough enthusiasm to fill a year’s worth of holidays. “And then Uncle Rumple and I started to play pretend. We had tea and dressed each other up and went on an adventure!”

“Did you, now?” Jefferson felt his eyebrows raise in surprise at this news. He set her feet on the stone bench when they came to it and stepped back to look her over. Grace had two golden combs in her hair, arranged so that they could be seen as a crown, and a large cloth tied loosely around her neck. She was also covered in jewelry, but the look was not the haphazard style of a child’s imagination, each item accentuated her features in some way. It was a look Priscilla would have chosen for her, something regal, yet playful, and it broke his heart how much Grace resembled her in that moment.

Unaware of her father’s broken heart, Grace eagerly nodded. “He was pretending to be my knight and was coming to save me from a horrible witch who lives in the woods.” As she spoke, her voice became conspiratorial, her mind drifting back into play.

“Well that’s a good thing because I just so happen to have brought this big, magical stick here so that she can’t use it.” Jefferson thrust the staff in front of himself for her inspection, then added dramatically, “And it wasn’t easy.”

Grace’s eyes went wide. “Do you think she’ll come after you? What if she wants it back?”

“Oh, she’ll want it back.” It was the impish voice of the Dark One that answered and Jefferson turned to see something he knew would never be seen again. While Rumplestiltskin stood before them dressed in his usual attire, he also had two bolts of colorful cloth hanging from his shoulders, a blue on one side, a yellow on the other, tied together at the waist with what appeared to be a cord used to hold back the castle’s curtains. One golden tassel dangled well below his knee while the other barely hung below the makeshift belt it created. In the man’s arm was a large clay pot, broken on one side and about the right size to fit on his head.

“Break your helmet, sir knight?” Jefferson chuckled.

With a huff and wave of his arm Rumple’s costume immediately disappeared. He reached toward the wood and wiggled his fingers as if trying to beckon the thing closer. “The staff.”

“Sure.” Glad to be rid of the thing, Jefferson handed the stick over. “Don’t know what you were so worried about. The climb was worse than… finding it.” He quickly caught himself before he could announce to Grace just _how_ he had acquired the witch’s staff, adjusting his task to suit his story.

Rumpelstiltskin glanced at Grace, then looked back at Jefferson with a shrug. “Well, I have it and she doesn’t, that’s what matters. You know where to go to acquire your payment.” He waved a hand at the large building beside them. “The same conditions apply as in all of our other arrangements.”

“I thought…. Well, I assumed this was a favor for your hospitality.” Jefferson looked from Grace’s innocent eyes to the Dark One’s impatient expression.

“Nonsense,” Rumple huffed in annoyance. “You were simply sitting around this long because we had to wait for certain… conditions.” After years of experience Jefferson knew when the man in front of him was fabricating evidence to fit his needs. Right now, every word and gesture being put before him was one of the man’s many tells. He was up to something and that made Jefferson uneasy.

Grace’s expression suddenly fell. “Papa? If you finished what you came to do, does that mean we have to go back?”

“No, no, no,” Rumplestiltskin corrected her with a tisk and the waggle of his finger. “You can both stay as long as you wish, though you _do_ have to let your papa prepare for supper.”

Caught completely off guard by such a casual announcement of their residential status, Jefferson found that he could only blink at the man in front of him. He felt the heat of Grace’s hand in his and the delicate pressure of her fingers tightening around his own, the touch bringing him back to reality, though his mind still whirled. Were they truly being granted an infinite stay?

In front of him, Rumplestiltskin moved closer until his nose nearly touched Jefferson’s own. His head tipped one way, then another until he finally spoke in his lilting, impish tones. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

This little stunt sent a shiver down Jefferson’s spine and put Grace into a fit of giggles. Oh, he’d show the Dark One a tongue, if he wanted one… 

Before he could act on the moment, it was gone, as was Rumplestiltskin, and Grace had hopped from her perch. “Come on, Papa! You have to be ready for another big feast! Belle has roasted turkey and special soup, and there are cookies for after dinner that I helped her make!” She tugged at Jefferson’s arm and tried to maneuver him through the gardens, but stopped when she met resistance. “Are you coming?”

Jefferson’s eyes roamed over the grounds, gazed into each window that lined the front of the castle, and sighed. Compared to the tiny cottage he’d just broken into, this small castle was the highest point of luxury in any realm. They would be happy here, but this place wouldn’t ever be home, not if it meant stealing to serve the Dark One’s every whim. He hadn’t encountered the staff’s owner, but from the glimpse he’d taken into the woman’s life, he knew her story. Foraging to survive, selling whatever handmade wares weren’t being used, layering patches onto worn clothing, and having idiots like himself take the last valuable item they owned… It was a miserable life, but it was honest, and Grace deserved that honesty.

Turning a smile to his daughter, Jefferson swooped down to lift her into his arms, all while growling and trying to tickle her. “Of course I’m coming,” he roared through her giggles. “All that climbing made me as hungry as a lion!” To add to the illusion he was creating, he gnashed his teeth playfully.

“Can I wear this to dinner, Papa?” The question came only once the fits of laughter allowed it and by that time they were at the castle’s large wooden doors.

“Of course you can, my princess,” Jefferson promised as he set her down so that they could walk inside. Bending low, he gave her a bow and stretched out a hand to the doors that opened magically for them. “Care to join me for dinner?”

“I will always eat with you, Papa,” Grace promised as she curtsied with a careful precision that she hadn’t had when they arrived, her happiness and love pulling at the smile on his face, forcing it to consume him.

* * *

Belle hovered in the doorway to the dining hall with the tea tray in her hands, watching the two men of the castle dote endlessly on Grace. They had pulled Rumple’s chair from the table and set it in front of the fireplace, where Jefferson was pretending to do something with the child’s shoes and Rumplestiltskin was dutifully rearranging the combs in her hair. Grace chatted happily with both of them as she gazed into a handheld mirror, an unusual sight in this castle, since every surface intended to cast a reflection was always covered. Belle couldn’t hear the words being spoken, but she could see the joy on the faces of the three before her, none of them seeming to have a care in the world but for whatever task had been put to them in the moment.

With a smile she entered, making certain to keep her eyes focused on the tea set as she moved forward so as not to give away her spying. The tray was full this evening, the cups stacked together to accommodate the plate of cookies that had been added to the setting. Torn between alerting the others to her arrival and listening in on their little game, Belle stood motionless at the table for longer than was necessary, catching the final words as she lowered the tray to its surface.

“Please be careful with the laces,” Grace was telling her father. “They’re magic, you know. They might try to wrap around your finger like a snake.”

Jefferson yanked his hand away. “Oh, I am so sorry, my lady. I will most certainly be careful in that case.”

The two continued on in their game when the tea set rattled, but Rumplestiltskin jerked away, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt as if examining them for a loose thread. “Snagged on that chair,” he huffed as he pointed to it. 

“Should I check to see if it needs sanding?” Belle made as if she were about to walk to the chair, but stopped when Rumple waved her off. 

Rumple scoffed at the offer in a way that seemed to be an attempt at suggesting she should know better. “No need to do anything now. None of us want sawdust in our tea.”

She ignored the Dark One’s tone and nodded at him politely, mostly because it would hide her smile. If, after a week of playing various games in the castle, he still wished to pretend he’d had no part in Grace’s antics, Belle was not in a position to argue. Instead she addressed Jefferson and Grace. “I’ve brought the tea… Lord and Lady?” The guess at their imaginary titles was a routine now, Grace having decided in the past few days that she wanted to play a regular game with Belle. The idea was to figure out the girl’s newest identity by her behavior alone. It was always much easier to guess what Grace was than to work out what title she determined was proper for either of the men in her life. Such things tended to change based off of some playful whim.

“Nothing so fancy,” Jefferson said as he stood from the floor. “I’m simply a servant this evening.”

“Ah.” Belle had actually assumed as much based on what she had seen, but wasn’t about to cast Rumple in such a role. Of course, being the one who was adjusting Grace’s hair, it was more likely that the Dark One was playing the part of a handmaiden and the notion made her bite her lip to contain a giggle. “Well, the tea was made even for humble servants,” she announced once she was sure of herself.

“Then you must sit with us,” Jefferson insisted, hurrying to her usual chair and moving it to stand beside his own. “Everyone together at the table for tea.” His eyebrows raised suggestively as he spoke and the mischievous smile on his face suggested he was speaking of sharing more than simple tea. 

The man’s flirting was incessant, but not unwelcome, and if Belle were going to be honest with herself about it, she had to admit that she enjoyed the attention. Though outsiders probably saw Jefferson’s antics as extreme at times, she recognized his purely innocent need to pour affection on to others. His heart was kind and he had mastered a way to morph sensuality into something that became a gesture of friendship rather than an expression of pure physical desire, though she would be a fool to believe that no one accepted his advances. He did have a daughter, after all.

Grace hurried to her place at the table and climbed into her chair with such eagerness that she let out a yelp of surprise as the knot of her cloth came undone. “Oh, my cape,” she fussed, holding it up to her father. “Can you retie it, please?”

“After tea,” he told her, draping the oversized linen over the arm of his own chair. His daughter stared at it, tilting her head and bending her body in such contortions that Belle began to feel concern. “Grace?” Jefferson put a hand on her shoulder. “Can we sit up at the table, please, darling?”

“Sorry, Papa. I only wanted to see if it was dripping.” Grace adjusted her seat and settled properly, smiling up at him though there was clear confusion on her face.

Belle smiled. “Dripping?” She spoke as she set the girl’s tea cup in front of her. It didn’t steam as the others would, she always took care to let Grace’s tea cool before serving it, prepared exactly to her taste. “Was the blanket wet?”

Grace shook her head, feet swinging as she eagerly eyed the plate of cookies. “No, but Uncle Rumple has blue cloth that _makes_ a river if it touches things.”

“Well, not exactly,” Rumple told her, fingers steepled and tapping together the way they did when he was trying to work out how best to say something. Belle found her eyes flicking toward Jefferson as she set cups of tea for the adults. “The stories tell that when you drop the cloth it makes a river where it falls, but what it truly does is create a portal to pull anyone approaching it into whatever river is close at hand.”

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed at his friend as the object was described, his anger apparent by the end, even before he raised his voice in annoyance. “You gave her a _portal_ to play with?”

“Oh no, no, no,” the Dark One scoffed, flicking a hand casually in the air as he picked up his chipped cup. “We used simple cloth for our games, I assure you. I might hide the magical items among the mundane, but I would never give such a thing to a child.”

“Don’t worry, Papa. I didn’t get to touch it _or_ the comb.” Jefferson’s eyes immediately darted to the golden items glinting in Grace’s hair and she laughed. “Not these, the wooden one! It’s even more beautiful than these. There are black swirls all in the wood because it was painted with special polish, and it’s long, and the points are carved to look like trees!” She beamed up at the adults, innocently unaware of the quiet anger building in her father’s expression. “ _That_ comb makes a forest if you drop it on the ground!”

Belle hovered at her seat, trying to get a proper feel for the room. Jefferson had transformed from the bubbly, easy going gentleman to something akin to a pot about to boil over. His jaw was set and his shoulders stiff. She had never seen him become truly upset and thought it completely out of character. At the head of the table, Rumplestiltskin was refusing to meet the man’s gaze and actually waved a hand through the air with casual nonchalance. It was this gesture that seemed to snap the thin strings holding Jefferson together.

Eyes still slits, their guest turned his anger to the tea sitting in front of him, looking for all the world as if he were a man making a decision that would change the lives of everyone in the kingdom. “I thought she was going to be safe here,” he said at last, whispering in a hiss of anger.

Rumplestiltskin leaned forward in his seat. “She _is_ ,” he insisted with a sneer. “Safer here than you know.”

“Grace…” Belle reached a hand to their smallest guest who was turning her head first one way and then another in order to study the men who practically sandwiched her between them. “Maybe we should-”

“Sit,” the Dark one rasped. “Unless _you_ feel as if you have a reason to run from us.”

“Of course not, Rumplestiltskin, but-”

Jefferson shook his head and reached out a hand to catch Belle’s arm. The touch was soft and light even in its urgency. “It’s all right.” He turned a smile up at her and then nodded at her empty chair in an attempt to suggest she take it. “I’m only surprised my _friend_ would think to put my daughter in such danger.”

“It’s all right, Papa,” Grace protested gently, taking on a personality that seemed much older than she should truly own. “Rumplestiltskin doesn’t actually _use_ the things he keeps here.”

“Then why does he _have_ them?” Her father put his elbows on the table and leaned into Rumplestiltskin’s space to make it quite clear that his question wasn’t aimed at Grace at all, but meant for their host.

The Dark One darted a glance at Grace, then met Jefferson’s eyes. “Believe me when I say that I _need_ everything that I have here.”

“Why?” Jefferson flopped back in his chair and dropped his hands into his lap with a loud smack. “It seems to me that with all of your portal spells and random trinkets of transportation you could go just about anywhere, but _you_ want a land _without_ magic. So why keep it all if you have no use for it?”

“I might be able to manipulate it,” Rumplestiltskin answered with a shrug. “One never knows-”

Jefferson cut him off, leaning forward again and gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles went white. “One never knows what sort of danger they might get in playing with magic that wasn’t meant to be altered. Portals aren’t spells. They have specific rules, unique to whatever creates them. Even on their own they’re dangerous, but _altered?_ ” 

“There’s nothing _dangerous_ about a portal,” Rumple scoffed. His mouth opened to say more, but Jefferson’s sharp tone put a halt to any further explanation.

“Sure, until you travel _through_ and can’t get out,” he snapped. “Or have no idea where the portal is taking you in the first place and go in unprepared. But I shouldn’t have to explain portals to someone like the Dark One. Should I?”

The question stilled Rumplestiltskin instantly and Belle could feel the weight of it as if it were a tangible thing pressing on everyone at the table. The heft of it compressed the Dark One, slumping his shoulders and turned his jaw from set to slack in the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry,” he said in a mere whisper before his mood shifted again and he pointed an accusatory finger at his guest. “But you _knew_ what kinds of things I have here. You brought a number of them to me yourself. And if you think for one moment that I would allow Grace to treat any of them as play things-”

“No.” Jefferson took in a long breath and let it out slowly, the tension in his body easing as he released the air in his lungs, though the new calm didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course I wouldn’t think-”

“Good,” Rumple barked before sipping his tea.

Through all of this Grace looked between her father and her newly appointed “uncle.” Eyes moist from slowly building tears, she reached a hand to each of them, clasping their arms. “Please don’t be mad,” she begged. “Papa just wants me safe… And Uncle Rumple _really_ didn’t let me touch anything.” The silence continued to build, even after her pleas faded away, so she tried again. “I don’t need all the things the Dark One has. They’re things that mean something to him, but they don’t mean anything to me.”

“They don’t mean anything to a lot of people,” Jefferson huffed.

Grace looked at her father, eyes wide, then turned back to the man at the head of the table. “But why do you keep all those things if they don’t mean anything?”

Belle stared down the table at Rumplestiltskin, whose mouth worked silently around words that wouldn’t be formed. She too wanted words of any kind to come to her, but the odd feeling of the room swept them into nothingness, just as the broom upstairs had simply swept the dust to vanishing.

It was Jefferson who finally broke the mood with a gentle chuckle that held no true mirth. “He doesn’t know,” the man said softly. “And that, my dear Grace, is why we can’t stay.”

The words had an instant effect on the Dark One and Belle watched as he fell into one of his panicked spirals, his body a mess of nervous ticks and wild eyed expressions. “But… but… you’re _safe_ here. There is plenty of room. You can have anything-”

“I’m done collecting things for you, Rumplestiltskin,” Jefferson insisted. Though he seemed angry, his tone was actually quite kind. “And I’m done collecting _from_ you. I appreciate everything you have done for us, but I can’t allow my daughter to live in a place where something might take her from me, or have you forgotten why I stopped traveling in the first place?”

“Of course not,” Rumple answered, the words barely audible. Belle thought she had never seen him look so afraid.

The other man nodded at this, then stood and walked to his friend, patting his arm. “Then you understand.” The corners of Jefferson’s mouth twitched before he lifted his hand toward his daughter. “Come, Grace. We need to get a good night’s rest for our journey home tomorrow.”

Grace stood and hugged Belle, whispering her good nights as her father stepped away to wait by the door. “I’m sorry if I made everyone sad,” she told Belle softly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t do it,” Belle told her as she tucked a strand of light hair behind the child’s ear. “Your papa and your uncle have a story that began before us and that’s the part of tonight that made them sad. It wasn’t you, all right?”

“Do you promise?” The girl’s sad eyes blinked up at her.

“I promise.” Belle emphasized her words with a playful tap to the girl’s nose that mimicked the ones her father had given her so many times since their arrival.

When Grace reached Rumplestiltskin, he gave her a genuine smile and hugged her as tightly as if she was his own child. Strangely, the image of the Dark One as a father seemed so natural as it played out before Belle’s eyes that she had to make herself aware of the absurdity of it. She watched as he whispered into Grace’s ear, then held out his open palm, where a small object appeared. “A toy,” he said as he held it out for her. “So you will always remember.”

Tucking the white thing in her pocket, Grace scrambled into Rumple’s lap for a final hug and planted a light kiss on his cheek before hurrying away to join her father. Though Belle tried to squeeze the details of the gift from Rumplestiltskin, she would not learn anything about it until the next day, when she caught him standing by the fire, slumped against the mantle as he stared mournfully into the flames. On the table stood a small, white elephant with a note scribbled hastily on a scrap of parchment.

_Thank you for everything, but my family’s need for magic ended long ago. - Jefferson._

* * * Storybrooke - After the Final Battle * * *

The chime of the shop’s bell pulled Rumple’s attention from the small bundle in his arms and he muttered against the disturbance. With his wife in the library, he and Gideon were the only two available to greet their customer and Gideon was no longer old enough to march out there on his own. “Coming.” he called out as he rose to his feet, setting down a now empty bottle and shifting Gideon’s position so that he could gently pat the boy’s back while they walked along. He was rewarded with a small belch and chuckled as he ducked under the curtain. “Try and keep that on the cloth, son.” 

“Uncle Rumple!” An oddly familiar face beamed beamed at him from the main counter. “It’s so good to see you!” The body of the girl before him had lengthened since he’d seen her last, stretching out of the youthful size it had been in and morphing itself into the form of a young woman. There had been a time when such an exclamation would have been delivered with reckless abandon and a peck on the cheek, but now they were more cordial, though still brimming with excitement.

His eyes went wide before scanning the room for other visitors that might be lurking about. “Grace! It’s very good to see you. Does… Does your father know you came?”

“Sure, he’s outside,” she told him happily. “Talking to Belle. We found her coming out of the library. He said I could come on in to talk with you, since I have a question for school.”

“For school?” Gideon fussed as Rumple spoke and he smiled his apology before pacing the shop to sooth the boy. “I don’t know that I would be of much help, but I can try, I suppose.”

“Well, we’re studying the way magic gets described in the folklore of _this_ realm and I was wondering…” The shop’s door opened, distracting Grace from her explanation and she turned to smile at Belle as she entered. Forgetting all else, Grace hurried to the woman’s side and squeezed her well enough that Belle actually grunted in surprise.

“It is _so_ good to see you, Grace,” Belle told her when they released each other. The two now stood eye to eye and Rumple could read the surprise on Belle’s face as she realized just how much of their friend’s life they had missed. “How have you been all of this time?”

“Good,” the girl told her absentmindedly as she twisted her body to try and peer into the world beyond the shop. “Where’s Papa?”

Belle looked over at Rumple. “He um… Wanted to make certain things were all right between the two of you.”

“Did he forget _he_ was the one that left _us?_ ” Even though he held Gideon, Rumple couldn’t help gesturing with his hand as if he could point out where the evidence of their parting sat among the items on the shelves. The movement turned out to be a rotation of body and wrist and made him feel like a wind up toy, twisting and jerking in mechanized movements. 

“He feels badly about the argument you had at the castle,” Grace confessed with a shrug. “He always has, but he’s been too afraid to come talk to you.”

Rumple sighed and took Gideon to Belle, transferring him easily to her arms before marching to the door and swinging it open. Unprepared to find Jefferson hovering only inches from the entrance, Rumple actually stumbled backward when he found himself facing a wall of jumbled patterns. With one hand clinging to the knob for balance, the other instinctively lifted to his chest as if resting his palm there would draw the surprise from his pounding heart. “Trying to scare the darkness out of me? Who on _earth_ would stand so close to a shop door?”

“Who would cover the window when the shop was open?” Jefferson asked the question flatly, a completely emotionless delivery that Rumplestiltskin knew better than to believe.

A sigh escaped him before he could stop it. “Point made,” Rumple said before allowing a chuckle. His eyes wandered over the man’s body, taking in his appearance. Jefferson had chosen a purple shirt and maroon scarf to be worn with pants that were such a dark green that they were nearly black. Rumple shook his head at the combination which was made even more distinctive by the mismatched patterns of each piece. Thankfully, the vest and overcoat were pure black. That at least helped with the situation. “You really should be picking out your father’s clothing, Grace,” he teased, sending a wink over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think he’s old enough to do it on his own.”

“Funny,” Jefferson huffed back before gesturing at the doorway. “May I come in?”

There was only a single heartbeat of hesitation before Rumple grasped the man’s hand and all but yanked him forward until their bodies clashed into an embrace. “Of course you come in,” he mumbled into the taller man’s body. “You’ve been gone for too long as it is.”

Jefferson stood awkwardly in Rumple’s arms and for a moment the town’s new Savior wondered if he’d overstepped some boundary. Considering Jefferson’s nature, the gesture could be read as either a romantic one or an expression of brotherly relief and the man didn’t seem too keen on giving away his opinion on the matter. At the moment Rumple simply didn’t care how the man felt about it, nor what anyone walking by would think. Their reunion was more important than his reputation. 

Eventually whatever had Jefferson at odds with himself shifted and Rumple felt a hesitant pressure at his sides which grew in intensity until it wrapped around him with the strength of ten men. Jefferson didn’t speak, just squeezed and took in an endless breath which he held for several counts before releasing it just as slowly. Never before had the two admitted just how they felt about each other and this single gesture spoke more than any words that could be said. Rumple had missed this man’s warmth and kindness, he’d seen it vanish after the curse, contorted by the pain of his separation from Grace, just one more thing they now held in common. One more bit of guilt that clung to Rumple among a thousand others, but this one was the one that he’d been sure would never go away.

It was Gideon that forced the friends apart, making all the little noises that said he was full and happy.

“Is that…?” Jefferson released Rumple to step in Belle’s direction, a smile consuming his face. 

Rumple beamed. “Gideon. Yes.” He felt his voice shake as he spoke and wondered if he would ever get over the intense feeling of having this second chance at fatherhood.

“Wow. He’s a lot smaller than the stories suggest.” Jefferson’s eyes went wide as he stood beside Belle to swoon over their baby. “I thought that after the battle-”

“We did too,” Belle told him, reaching out with one arm to grasp Jefferson’s hand. “But for whatever reason he was sent back to us.”

“He’s beautiful,” Jefferson swooned. He held out a finger for Gideon to grasp and Rumple watched as his son caught hold of his friend and refused to let go.

After finally shutting the shop door, Rumple crossed the room to join them. “Do me a favor. At least wait until my son’s out of diapers before you start swooning over his good looks.”

Grace laughed as a look of horror crossed over her father’s face. “Well Papa _did_ say the older Gideon was-”

“How about we let your Uncle Jefferson hold you, hm?” Belle chimed in before Grace could make things even more awkward between them all. The whirlwind of change between Gideon’s birth and his return had confused many, but those on the outside wouldn’t ever be able to grasp the oddity of remembering that the man you spoke with only days ago wouldn’t ever speak to you again, though he would grow up in front of you.

Jefferson looked from Belle to Rumple. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Belle told him as she passed the baby along. There were times when Rumple could see the worry in her, the fear of her own past mistakes. He could see the beginning of that doubt now, though he wasn’t at all able to pinpoint the cause. The worry lifted the moment she saw Gideon cradled easily by Jefferson who became lost in the baby’s small world.

“So, Grace…” Rumple pulled Belle gently to his side, hoping to give her unspoken support. “I believe you said you had a question for me?”

“Oh, I do!” She hurried to set down her backpack and pulled out a lumpy folder. “Everyone has to pick a magical item from a fairy tale or folk story to write a report on, but we also have to make a model to display in class. I found a story the other day about a comb that makes the forest grow and a blanket that turns into water and I remembered those things from your castle.” Grace opened the folder to reveal several papers and a comb, the latter of which she held up for Rumple to take. “I made this one from memory, I just… I wondered if I could look at the original, to make sure I’ve got the shape right?”

“If your father approves…” Rumple glanced at Jefferson as the man gently rocked Gideon to sleep. It was hard to tell if he was listening, since every particle of his being seemed to be focused on the tiny bundle in his arms. After a moment of silence Jefferson looked up, a sheepish grin on his face. “I sent her here, remember?” When Gideon’s hand lifted in the air, the man’s tone shifted to something even more bubbly and his smile grew so wide that even the hair on his head shifted as he grinned. “Nothing to worry about if I’m _watching_ them handle the comb, is there? Hm? Nothing at all…”

Gideon’s only response was to try and tug at the cloth around the man’s neck.

“Belle, can you bring the box from the cabinet?” Rumple gave her a squeeze before releasing her and she nodded, moving swiftly to the exact place he’d spoken of. Just as in their days at the castle, she always knew what he wanted and where to get it from. In a moment she returned, box in hand.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jefferson told her as she moved around the room. “Keeping track of everything the Dark One collects can’t be easy.”

She shrugged. “It’s a part of our lives together.” Her answer, humble as always, made everything sound so simple. Most of the people in Storybrooke didn’t give her enough credit for her intelligence. They assumed she was still filling the role of servant, fetching and cleaning things and simply being _told_ what to do, but Rumple knew she had learned about every item she found. He wondered if anyone else in town was able to point to a random shelf in his shop and name everything on it, declare their origins, _and_ be able to tell you which book held more information on it. It was that brilliance that had drawn him to her. 

“You’ve done remarkable work,” Rumple told Grace as he lifted her fabrication for inspection. 

Beside him, Belle tipped her head curiously. “The grain of the wood is very realistic. How did you make it?”

Grace shrugged as she watched Rumple pick through the box to pull out the true piece. “A special trick with clay,” she told him. If you layer the colors and roll them out, then stretch them and cut them just the right way, you can fake the pattern of wood grains. After that I only had to shape it.”

Lifting one comb in each hand, Rumple held them side by side, then lay them over each other to compare the length. When placed next to it’s clay replica the original wooden carving was as obvious as the carrot on a snow man, but when it was removed from sight, the line between duplicate and original was easily blurred. It was even quite possible that the fake could be confused for the real thing by the right people. “The color is an excellent match. It really is well done,” Rumple told her, handing back the project. “If you’re looking for me to point out a flaw, I’d be hard pressed.”

“Really?” Grace beamed and he nodded. In a rush of movement, she pulled a pencil from her folder and put it to one of the pieces of paper. “In the story children throw it on the ground to grow a forest to stop the witch from catching them. How do you use the real one? Do you just drop it anywhere? Does it really grow a whole forest right in front of you?”

“Well it wasn’t designed for indoor use,” Rumple teased, leaning forward conspiratorially the way he would have if he still had his scales and long hair. “Roofs weren’t made to withstand the sudden _shoot_ of trees into them.” He made a swishing motion with his hands, sliding one past the other and straight up to the full extent of his reach. “So it is best to be used outside. And as for your other question, it makes only a short line of trees with a portal in the largest gap between two of them.” 

Giggling, Grace jotted some notes down on the paper. “Is it the kind of portal that goes away once it gets used? Like the beans?”

“The trees go away,” he told her. “But the comb remains.”

“So it works a little like my hat.” The whisper of Jefferson’s voice drifted beside Rumple’s ear and made him jump. He turned a scowl over his shoulder to find his friend’s face tucked almost perfectly between his own and Grace’s, peering down at the girl’s work. Realizing that Jefferson was suddenly empty armed, Rumple looked around the room in confusion, but the other man quickly put him at ease with a warm smile and a nod at the back room. “She went to put him to bed.”

“If the comb stays here, how do you get back from wherever it takes you?” Grace interrupted, worry beginning to fill her eyes. “You’d get trapped, wouldn’t you?”

“Ah,” Rumple said, putting the original comb on the counter beside the box, then pointing at it. “That is the whole purpose of it. Have you ever heard of the Infinite Forest?”

The girl nodded, eyes wide. “That’s in our realm. I’ve never been there.”

“Few have,” Jefferson told her. “Once you go in, you don’t come out.”

“Unless you go in prepared,” Rumple corrected. “If you went through with something that makes another portal, like a magic bean, you could come back easily.” He nodded at the clay version that was sitting beside Grace’s notes. “This particular comb was meant as a defense, you see. If you were being chased, you threw it down-”

“And whoever was chasing you couldn’t get past the forest because they got trapped inside of it,” she finished for him. Rumple smiled as he almost literally watched the pieces come together in the girl’s mind. “So the tales are true, just misunderstood. You throw the comb down and your enemy goes through, but they are trapped because they are in the Infinite Forest, not because the trees tangle you up.” She beamed. “I _knew_ it was more complicated than just making trees grow. I mean why not just walk around the trees?”

Jefferson put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair, a gesture that Rumple could see was _almost_ tolerated. “I said you picked a good one,” he announced proudly.

“ _And_ you said Uncle Rumple could help,” she told him as she lifted her backpack to the counter to begin packing her things.

Rumple turned to his old friend with a sad smile. “I shouldn’t have let you leave,” he admitted sadly. “I should have done _more_.”

“You can’t have known _everything_ ,” Jefferson told him, then gestured at the back room. “You _didn’t_ know everything. It took a certain someone to show you that, I believe.” 

Rumple’s heart sank. The power of foresight had been a gift in some ways, but in others it had nearly undone him. He’d never been able to help his friend and he’d never known his true love was alive and caged. They owed each other so much and he had nothing but a jumble of words to offer as his end of the payment. A confession began to stir inside of him, churning to try and grind itself out, but Rumple didn’t have the chance to give it life because in the next moment there was a massive clattering of objects on the floor.

“Sorry!” Grace hurried around the counter and disappeared, ducking down to hastily pick up the box of combs that had fallen. “I knocked it with my backpack.” Her hands flew over the collection, picking up each item and replacing it into the undamaged box before lifting it, intact and filled. “I’m really sorry.”

“Accidents happen to everyone,” Rumple assured her, taking the box and glancing inside to make certain that all of the combs, including the one that led to the Infinite Forest, were within. “And no harm done. Everything is here, nothing broken.” 

Belle reappeared then, looking around worriedly. “Is everyone okay?”

Closing the box and setting it down, to give Grace a squeeze, Rumple nodded. “All perfectly fine. The only problem is that these two haven’t visited us before now.”

“Something we will have to change,” Jefferson agreed. “Dinner sometime? Or tea with Belle’s berry tarts and Grace’s cookies?” He winked at his daughter. “I think we left that one a little too soon last time.”

“I couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier,” Rumple told him, feeling the warmth of Jefferson’s answering smile fill the room. People only thought of Jefferson as a portal jumper, but he had a magic of his own, the radiance of pure joy that was instantly contagious. Now that gift was back in Rumple’s life again and it was a glorious thing to hold on to.

* * *

The driveway at the Charmings’ farmhouse was packed with cars when the Cadillac pulled up and Belle immediately felt guilty. The dark of night had blanketed everything, turning the lit porch into a beacon that pointed straight to their tardiness. “We should have left sooner,” she insisted as she peered out the window into the evening. “I could have fed Gideon upstairs. Everyone would have understood.”

“They will understand the delay just as easily,” Rumple assured her. She felt his hand on her knee and she turned to find his loving smile and kind eyes. “It wasn’t so long ago that Neal was Gideon’s age. Besides, this is a simple housewarming, not an official event. At worst, we missed the tiny sandwiches and carrot sticks.”

Belle grinned at him and squeezed his hand before unbuckling from her seat and getting out of the car. She pretended that the seatbelt caught her sweater so that she could watch Rumple fuss over their son as he took him from the car. His tenderness constantly overwhelmed her in all of the best possible ways and she often looked for reasons to delay whatever she was doing so that she could grant them one minute longer together.

As Rumple joined her on the porch, the front door opened, releasing the scent of a ready meal and revealing a smiling Ruby. “Oh you made it!” Belle’s friend burst with excitement, wrapping her in a hug before stepping back. Dorothy and Archie lingered behind her, drinks in hand, both giving smiles of greeting. “We were just-”

The sound of a vehicle speeding toward the house made Ruby pause and Belle turned to see Jefferson’s car as it jolted to a stop near the others.

“Belle, I- What’s going on?” The question came from Snow, who had come to join Ruby at the door. She frowned down at the scene as the new arrival threw open his car door and nearly fell out of his seat. “Jefferson?”

The man gave no greeting or apology as he rose, simply stared at Rumple with such a look of pain that Belle wouldn’t have been surprised to find a knife in Jefferson’s back. “She’s gone!” He gasped. “Grace. She’s gone.”

Every face fell at the news, sparks of levity morphing into expressions of worry, sadness, or fear. Rumple was the only one to speak, retreating to the line of cars from the porch, Gideon still cradled in his arms. “Gone? Are you sure-” He corrected his own words instantly. “No, of course you’re sure, what I mean is… Where? How?”

Jefferson said nothing, only held up something with a gloved hand. In the evening light it was difficult for Belle to make out what the dark shape was, but since he was standing closest, Rumplestiltskin recognized it instantly. She watched the color drain from his face as he turned back to her, saw his arms tightening around Gideon, who began to object. “The comb,” he murmured, voice so quiet that she could barely hear him.

“Please,” Jefferson finally begged, body slumped against the car as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “You _have_ to help me find her.”

“How does a comb prove she’s gone missing?” The question came from Ruby.

Belle turned to her friends and briefly explained. As she spoke Rumple hurried up the stairs. “She must have taken the wrong one when she knocked the box over,” he moaned. “I should have been more thorough when I checked inside. Belle, this is all _my_ fault.” She could hear the unspoken “again” in his tone, see it in the anguish that filled his eyes. “I _have_ to help him.”

“We were _all_ there,” she told him, hoping to be reassuring. “And _no one_ is to blame.”

“Here,” Snow blurted out, arms outstretched. “Let us take Gideon so you can both go.”

“I’m coming too,” Ruby insisted, stepping through the doorway and onto the porch. “If you’re going to the Infinite Forest you’ll need someone who can track her.”

“But once you get there, how are you going to get back?” Archie stepped up to take Ruby’s place under the door’s frame, his expression concerned. A lingering gaze of sadness passed between him and Ruby that Belle tried her best to avoid noticing. She wasn’t in the habit of giving away the secrets of others and knew she might say something she’d regret if she didn’t stay clear.

“They’ll come back with me,” Dorothy replied, catching the man’s arm. “I’ll go with them, then I can bring everyone back when we find her.” 

Belle glanced down and noticed the sparkle in the woman’s shoes and couldn’t help smiling. “Do you _always_ wear magic shoes to a house warming party?”

Dorothy shrugged, the corners of her mouth tipping upwards ever so slightly. “Only when they match my dress.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “If we’re going, don’t we need to do it already?”

Reluctantly, Rumple eased Gideon into Snow’s arms before bending to kiss the top of his head. “Papa has to go, Gideon, but I’ll be back.” He lingered in the woman’s personal space for much longer than was necessary, settling his son’s clothing and stroking his head, completely unaware of Snow’s discomfort over his proximity.

Belle reached out a hand to her husband. “Rumple, we have the slippers, we’ll be back as soon as we find Grace.” A car door slammed behind her and she turned to see Jefferson rushing to the steps of the house. The man’s eyes were wild with terror and he pleaded for the others to hurry. As Ruby and Dorothy scrambled down the stairs, Rumple finally allowed himself to be pulled away, though he kept looking back as they descended from the porch and met the others in the yard.

“I’m coming too!” As the group gathered in the space between the sheep’s pen and the white farmhouse, Archie’s chipper voice called out into the night. He all but bounced down the stairs, crossing the distance with long strides. “One more person can’t hurt the search,” he insisted, shooting a poignant stare Dorothy’s way. The woman stared at him for a long time before relenting, nodding once.

Team assembled, Rumple nodded to Jefferson, who immediately dropped the comb to the ground. On impact the teeth began to expand upward at a terrifying rate, first as saplings, then as young trees that thickened and grew until their trunks were so large that three of them couldn’t have circled one with their arms. The sound of this growth was almost unbearable, the creaking and moaning of manipulated wood reverberating somewhere deep in Belle’s body. It put her on edge and she cringed against it, but refused to step away. 

When the movement stopped moments Jefferson strode forward, stepping through the biggest gap in the trees with a fearlessness that proved both his experience and his desperation. There was no dividing line between this realm and the next, no film of magic, no rush of air when he moved. The man was simply standing in front of them and then gone in the blink of an eye, leaving no evidence of his existence behind. Dorothy, Ruby, and Archie glanced at each other uncertainly and clasped hands before following, traveling together and vanishing as one. 

Belle turned to Rumple, whose eyes lingered on the white house just beside them. “We’ll come back to him,” she promised before taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.

Rumple let out a long breath and nodded as he let her guide him between the trees, leaving the farm behind.

* * *

“Grace!” Jefferson’s voice pressed through the dark woods ahead of them as the hunting party moved through the night. The call crackled with the strain he was putting on his vocal chords and Ruby winced at the sound.

“Hey,” she said gently as she rested a hand on his arm. “We’ll find her.”

“I should never have let her go into that shop.” The man all but wept the words, his face red from the strain of yelling, his eyes red from shed tears. Jaw and hands clenched, he wheeled around to point an accusatory finger at Rumplestiltskin, sneering angrily. “I _knew_ all of your useless things were going to get us into trouble some day.”

Belle stepped between them. “This was an _accident_ ,” she reminded him. “Rumple has _never_ done anything to hurt either of you.”

“He uses people. He used _me_.” Jefferson growled back as he stepped forward and Ruby instinctively blocked his path. “All he cares about are the _things_ he collects.”

“Actually, no.” Belle straightened as her eyes narrowed at him. “The last time he asked you to the castle, he intended for you to stay. Have you forgotten how much time he spent with you? With Grace? He was devastated when you left.”

Ruby glanced over her shoulder at Rumplestiltskin, who stood like a silent, suited statue in the darkness of the wood. His eyes were downcast, his expression blank. The man looked for all the world as if he had just _lost_ the world. He was humble and weak and accepting a lashing from a man that Belle had only _just_ told her was the closest thing he had to a best friend. None of this made any sense, so she simply stood her ground and took it all in, working things out as they played on in front of her.

Jefferson’s threatening pressure against Ruby eased, though he remained tense.“And that stupid stick? Did you lie when you said that wasn’t the price for my stay?”

“Firewood.” All heads turned to Rumple as he finally lifted his gaze to meet Jefferson’s. “It was only wood. The house you took it from was one I created to give you somewhere to go. I broke the staff and built that night’s fire with it.” Jefferson lunged forward, but Rumple held up his hands to fend him off. “I knew how you were living and I knew you wouldn’t take charity from anyone. I hoped that if I asked you to do something for me, especially something so menial, you would demand extra payment for the inconvenience. I knew the curse was coming, I _planned_ it, every aspect of it, including a way to keep you and Grace _safe_.”

Everyone went silent when the confession ended and began casting awkward glances around the group, unsure of what to do next. The woods became heavy with the feel of unease, seeming to grow as still as the people who had invaded it. 

“The elephant?” Jefferson’s question caused only a stir of confusion among the others, but it deflated Rumplestiltskin. His entire body slumped, muscles giving way until his shoulder slammed against the tree he stood beside, the strong trunk all that was keeping him vertical. Belle hurried to him, obviously concerned, checking him and whispering soft words meant to calm him. 

Tears streamed from Rumple’s face as she shook his head. “Whoever holds the elephant will not be parted from the person they love most.” The words shook, breaking around each other.

The hatter stilled, then tried to step forward again, but Ruby was hesitant to let him go. “I’m sorry,” he whispered at Rumple before asking her with his eyes to be released. Carefully stepping back, Ruby joined Dorothy and Archie, watching as Jefferson practically marched to Rumple, snatched him from the tree and squeezed the life from him. “I should have trusted you,” he muttered down into the man’s shoulder. 

Belle stepped aside to give them space and the time for forgiveness without any intrusions, joining Ruby and the others. Their distance would have allowed privacy for any normal human, but Ruby was a Child of the Moon and as such, was unable to prevent her own intrusion without taking off into the forest.

“No,” Rumple murmured. “I collected everything to find Bae. I couldn’t stop. Now he’s gone, I almost lost Gideon…”

Jefferson tried to reassure him. “You were doing the right thing.”

“But Grace… If I hadn’t-”

The creaking of wood made Ruby spin in place to stare out among the trees behind them. Similar to sounds they heard when the forest sprouted from the comb, the faint sound seemed either too far away or too unimportant for the others to notice, but to Ruby it sounded like the torturing of thin branches. Something was out there, twisting and rubbing them together. “Hey,” she called out. “I hear something.”

Immediately Jefferson was at her side, voice straining as he called his daughter’s name. As if responding to his voice, the trees stilled.

Ruby shook her head. “It’s gone.”

“Well, then we go find her,” Jefferson insisted, spinning to face her. “I was thinking of her when I dropped the comb. She _has_ to be nearby.” His eyes flicked up to Rumple, filled with desperation. “Right?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how this portal works,” Rumple told them as he stepped forward, Belle’s arm wrapped tightly over his own. The woman squeezed it as if pressure would give him new life and for all Ruby knew, it worked. He nodded in the direction of the sound she had heard and curled his lip in a sneer. “The comb takes everyone to the same place.”

“Well, then she ought to be here, right?” Dorothy finally spoke. “We can just follow her and-”

In that moment, deep in the forest, a small house literally walked into their view and Ruby felt fear roll off of everyone around her, including Rumplestiltskin.

* * *

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Ruby huffed at Jiminy as they walked toward the hut that had quite suddenly planted itself in the far distance ahead of them. He felt the accusation in her voice, but heard the confusion as well. “Why did you come?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you and Dorothy to do this alone,” Jiminy whispered, glancing around quickly to see if anyone had overheard. Seeing a few eyes on him, he shrugged, not sure of what else to say to divert attention from the truth. “I thought I would be changed back, like the last time.”

Striding just ahead of them with Belle and Jefferson at his side, Rumplestiltskin turned just enough to speak over his shoulder. “You changed last time because the curse was recast. Portals don’t transform, only transport.”

Dorothy looked from Rumple to Ruby as they followed the others, then narrowed her eyes at Jiminy, her voice a harsh whisper. “Why would you want to change? Especially after I just agreed to everything?” 

“Well, I thought if Ruby could track and I could fly, we might cover more ground together.” He shrugged again, realizing now how utterly naive the idea had been. “I know I’m not the first person everyone thinks of when they ask for volunteers to go charging into the unknown, but I can’t resist helping a lost child. Or knowing a family could be broken apart.” He shot both Dorothy and Ruby a knowing look with the final words, willing them to understand.

“Just because Belle and Rumple-” Dorothy hissed back at him, but stopped when she saw Jefferson walking backwards, eying her, eyebrows raised.

“So everyone here knows something I don’t, right?” Jefferson called out at them jovially. Based on the stories others had told, solitude was the man’s only true enemy and Archie could see that now that he was among friends. He held a remarkable skill when it came to covering his darker emotions with the facade of a playful nature, but a trained eye could see underneath, noticing the eagerness eating him up inside.

Either by instinct or because she was one who could see the man’s torments, Belle released Rumple’s arm and took Jefferson’s instead, patting it playfully. “Nothing is going on that you wouldn’t approve of.”

Archie felt the blood drain from him as the hatter glanced back. “Oh, I see,” he said with a wink, then turned again and said no more.

“Now you’ve done it,” Dorothy told Jiminy as she nudged him away. It wasn’t a playful act, but it held less malice than her words implied that it should.

“Contrary to his reputation, Jefferson is extremely trustworthy,” Rumple assured them as he came to a stop in front of a tiny structure that stood on the feet of a chicken. His voice was casual, nonchalance spilling from him like water from a duck’s back. “So believe me when I say that your not-so-hidden secret is safe.”

Jiminy opened his mouth to reply, but was never given the chance as Rumplestiltskin called out into the forest. “Hut! Turn your back to the forest and your front to me!”

The small wooden building was still for a moment, then rose as the bird-like feet beneath stretched to their full height. Stepping carefully, it began to rotate, strutting in a small circle until a single door was visible. Once facing them, the entire structure sank down again, the legs bending and tucking up under it like those of a nesting hen. The noise of wood rubbing against itself caused a shiver to travel down Jiminy’s spine, but eventually the house settled and the creaking stopped.

“What _is_ this place?” Ruby asked as her body shifted closer to Jiminy’s. On his other side, he felt the same new warmth from Dorothy. The realization came to him that having been a cricket he should have been terrified of anything on bird’s legs and then recognized their proximity as a form of protection, one he suddenly realized he enjoyed.

“The hut of a witch, of course,” Rumple told them as he moved to the wooden porch, stepping on to it as he would any other, showing no hesitation or fear that the building would shift beneath him. “In the stories the building sits at the edge of the woods, but we all know how stories go. Fairy tales and fables are made of little more than the remnants of fact. The comb follows the hut because it was meant to send the witch home.” 

Lifting a hand, Rumplesiltskin rapped his knuckles on the door’s wooden panel, then waited. When no reply came, he moved down the porch to peer through the glass of one of the windows whose smooth surface was beginning to warp with age.

“If no one’s here we should probably keep looking,” Ruby decided.

Rumple turned to face her “Catch the scent of Grace yet?” She shook her head. “And you probably won’t. This house could have traveled miles from wherever it was when Grace came through. Trust me, this is our best option.”

“What if it wasn’t?” Dorothy and Ruby turned to Jiminy as he moved past them and up to the hut. “Let me be who I came here to be. You can change me, can’t you? I can cover more ground that way.” He thought about his small, green form darting through the air, lifted by his delicate wings and hoped he didn’t sound unusually eager. Being human wasn’t something he considered to be frustrating or undesirable, he quite enjoyed it now that there were people in his life outside of those he was obligated to care for, but the freedom he felt as a cricket was always something that rested in the back of his mind.

Ruby stepped up to join him, looking worried. “Could he change you back?”

Rolling his eyes, Rumple tipped his head at her in a way that perfectly conveyed his annoyance. “Of _course_ I could.”

“Can you… I don’t know… Change the moon?”

Ruby’s question caught in Jiminy’s chest and he turned to her. “You really think he’s that powerful?”

“ _He_ is right here,” Rumple huffed back as he left the porch to stand in front of them. “And no, I can’t change the moon. But assuming you’re asking me to change _you_ , I can try and force your body into thinking it’s a full moon. It won’t feel the same and it could be dangerous. Think you can handle that?”

Looking from one person to the other, Ruby swallowed, only nodding once Dorothy’s head bobbed slightly in acceptance. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I can handle it.”

“Good,” Rumple told them. “Best to have the witch think there are less of us anyway. Whatever favor we ask for is going to come with a price and the fewer of us that stand here begging for help, the fewer that have to pay.” He turned to stare at Jiminy. “She can smell her way back to us, but you-”

Jiminy stiffened, feeling the sting of assumed incompetence. “I’ll fly by direction, out in a straight line and come back to search again along a new path. I won’t get lost.” He sincerely hoped with all of his heart that he could keep that promise.

Rumple gave no warning that the change was about to happen, simply raised his hand and surrounded Ruby in magical smoke. The haze lingered longer than anyone expected it to, even the man creating it seemed unsure during the process, his face contorting with frustration and worry, but eventually his hand lowered, clearing the air to reveal a wolf, collapsed on the ground.

“Ruby!” Dorothy ran over and slid her fingers through the thick fur coat. 

“Better not,” Rumple warned, just as the wolf’s head lifted to snap at her. 

“Ruby, it’s me,” Dorothy pleaded, looking from the wolf to Jiminy and back again before she amended her statement. “It’s us.”

The wolf turned from one to the other, gazing mournfully at Dorothy, then Jiminy before shaking itself free of both of them to pace around the group as a whole, eyes hungry. As she herded them into a tight bunch, Jefferson leaned in to Jiminy with a suggestive smile. “Maybe let her… you know… catch your scent? Assuming she knows it, of course.”

Jiminy felt his face burn with embarrassment. “She _doesn’t_ actually,” he huffed before turning to Dorothy.

“I trust her,” the woman said, stepping away and moving farther from the hut. “I believe she’ll wake from this.”

Watching her with Ruby’s wolf form planted a lump in Jiminy’s throat. The trust of the couple’s true love burned at him with a jealousy that he had never expected to feel. Every tentative sniff from Ruby, every soothing touch from Dorothy were pangs in his chest that he couldn’t ignore. “Change me now,” he ordered as he stared ahead at the bonding that took place. “I should start searching.”

Giving a knowing smile, Rumplestiltskin nodded, flicking his hand to turn Jiminy’s world into something much more familiar than the spark of pain that was trying to set fire to his sensible nature.

* * *

“That flight plan doesn’t seem at _all_ complicated,” Jefferson commented as he watched Jiminy the cricket fly off into the woods, chirping occasionally. He wondered if Archie had forgotten that most people didn’t understand him, or if he was using the sound in some way that only animals found useful. Belle smiled at him, but said nothing. She knew him too well, he realized before turning to the others to better hide his agitation. He thumbed over his shoulder at the hut and flashed a smirk that he hoped would try and prove his stability to the others. “So what do we need from inside? I could-”

“It won’t be inside,” Rumplestiltskin told him. “We’re going to have to wait here until she gets back, or until the cricket finds something.”

A growl made them all turn to Ruby, who had moved closer again, hackles raised. “His name is _Jiminy_ ,” Dorothy added on top of the rumbling of the wolf. She emphasized the name as if she were someone who cared more about it than she was letting on. “And Ruby’s ready now, too.”

Jefferson looked down at her. “Do you think you can find my Grace?” The wolf only tipped its head to one side, seeming curious. “Right,” he said with a sigh before plopping himself down on fallen log and flinging his arm at the house, wishing he could magically cast it away or poof the witch into it or do something besides sit in the middle of a forest with no way out. “Well, we’ll be here.”

Ruby turned her head the way Jiminy had gone, then bounded off in exactly the opposite direction, howling as she disappeared into the night.

“They’ll find her,” Dorothy told him, resting a hand carefully on his shoulder. “Does she know anything about the woods? Would she know how to take shelter or find food?”

“We used to live in the forest. She would help me find herbs and mushrooms to sell. We played hide and seek all the time. She never got lost.” Jefferson looked up at Dorothy, wishing that she, or anyone, could simply plop all of the answers down in front of him. “Grace knew not to wander off at home, but here? I’d hope she would have stayed in one place, but how do we even learn where that is?”

Belle came to sit beside him, pressing her shoulder to his and tipping her head to rest it against him. “She wouldn’t talk about herself as if she weren’t here,” she tried to tease. “So you shouldn’t either.”

Jefferson sighed and nodded, tuning his ears for the distant howling that seemed to become more forlorn the farther it went from them. It called out into the forest, wailing and crying until it was nothing but a distant memory. Heart sinking, he put his head in his hands, moisture pooling in his palms as he cried. Images of Grace filled his vision, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, her delicate movements as she served their daily tea, a tradition that had changed as she aged and now included an actual beverage. 

“Jefferson,” Belle’s voice pressed at him, calm but urgent, and he shook his head, unable to form words that would tell her to leave him. “No,” she insisted. “Listen.”

He looked up, eyes scanning the dark forest as if sight would change what his ears could perceive. “I don’t hear anything,” he mumbled. “I’m not Ruby.”

“Neither do I,” Dorothy added, head turning from Ruby’s path to Jiminy’s and back to the hut.

Rumplestiltskin began walking in the direction Jiminy had gone and it was then that Jefferson realized the chirping sound of night insects was growing ever louder, at times almost squealing with its intensity. His eyes lifted to the trees as he bolted up, the might of his desperation thrusting him not only off of the log, but several steps forward through its momentum. “Where is he?”

“I don’t see him,” Rumple answered, “but that’s our cricket.”

Dorothy cupped her hands and called out in the opposite direction. “Ruby!” 

Belle moved beside her, brows furrowed. “Will she hear you?”

“I don’t know,” Dorothy told her, “But I had to try. She was going to turn back if she didn’t find-”

A rush of air passed them all and Jefferson heard the thwack of something hitting flesh. He turned just in time to see a dazed Jiminy drop at Dorothy’s feet. “Did he hit you?”

“He must have been caught in the wind,” Belle decided. She stooped to lift the small green form in careful hands, examining him carefully. One leg moved, then another, and finally a quiet chirp crept out of him. “I think he’s okay.”

“Your green friend refused to leave me alone,” a scratchy voice said from beside the hut. Everyone turned wide eyed expressions to the building, where an old woman squatted in what looked like a giant mortar. “Drove me all the way back here, he did….” Her voice trailed off and she rose to her feet, gaze fixated on Rumplestiltskin. “Well. Never expected to see _you_.”

Jefferson stepped forward, feeling a surge of protectiveness for the friend he had been yelling at not so long ago. It seemed to be the very nature of their relationship to jump in and out of it as either of them saw fit. Now, standing at one side of Rumple while Belle took the other, Jefferson realized that the Dark One seemed to have a habit of getting into similar, light switch style relationships and Jefferson decided that he was happy to fit that category if it meant remaining close through the years to come. “We need your help,” he finally told the witch when no one else spoke. “My daughter found her way here and-”

“No,” Rumple snapped while shooting an angry glare Jefferson’s way. “ _I_ need her help. You just happen to be standing here.” 

_I guess we’re both back on,_ Jefferson thought, feeling hope swell in him for the first time since they arrived at this monstrosity of a home.

“A little girl lost in the woods. Oh, it has been quite a while since I’ve heard that tale.” The witch moved among them, studying Belle and Dorothy before extending a long arm toward Jiminy’s slender body. “Perhaps an exchange…”

From nowhere, a blur of gray flashed past the group, almost completely unrecognizable except for the loud snarling that accompanied it. The sheer force of Ruby’s blow sent the witch flying backwards in the dirt until one of the trees halted her movement. Wolf paws pressed the woman down and teeth gnashed at her neck, threatening to bite, but Rumple’s call made her pause.

“We need her, Ruby. She has what can help us track Grace.” Rumple crossed the space to them and hand held out as if he were warding off danger. Ruby eased her pressure, but refused to back away, assuring their group would maintain the upper hand. “Well,” the Dark One almost chortled. “It seems we’ve caught you at a bad time. If you would rather the five of us go and leave you to the wolves-”

“No,” the woman hissed. “I find myself in a giving mood.”

Rumple nodded. “Excellent. Now, we need some of your magic to help us track my friend’s missing daughter, something that we can easily follow and will prevent us from becoming lost in the process. Once we have that, we’ll be on our way.”

“Magic is not a gift to be shared,” said the witch. “You of all people are aware of that.” She lifted a hand to point at what had once been an empty space between Jefferson and the hut, where now a pile of grain stood, its highest point reaching as tall as the man’s stomach. “Separate the grains from the chaff and _then_ you will have what you desire, but you must do everything without the use of the Dark One’s magic.”

“Deal,” Rumple said quickly, making the woman smile.

Jefferson glared at the pile, lifting a handful and watching the light chaff drift as the grain cascaded from his hand. “Do you have _any_ idea how long this will take?”

From Belle’s hands, Jiminy gave a series of loud chirps and gestured at the pile.

The witch glared at him as if she understood every sound, eyes narrowing. “Yes. You may use baskets of my own making, but then you must transfer the grain to-”

“No we won’t,” Rumple cut in, pointing a finger at her as he spoke. “You told us that to get what we wanted _all_ we had to do was separate the grains and chaff. I agreed to that condition. You could have spoken out against it. You didn’t.”

Straightening on Belle’s palm, Jiminy chirped down to the witch, who then made four baskets appear beside the pile of grain. The cricket looked up at Belle and rambled on as he made scooping gestures, then flapped his wings, lifting himself from her hands. Though he couldn’t understand the words, Jefferson picked up on the idea right away and went straight to work filling his basket.

“I’ve got it,” Jefferson told him, hefting the thing. “Now what was the rest?”

Flying over to the basket, Jiminy clutched at the edge, tugging it so that a few bits of grain spilled out. With his wings flapping mightily, the light chaff drifted away, leaving the grain to drop to the ground. Jefferson frowned down at him. “Can you keep it up that long?” The cricket’s version of a harumph almost made Jefferson laugh. “I mean _flying,_ ” he amended quickly.

Giving a little shrug, Jiminy drifted to the edge of the witch’s giant mortar and perched, gesturing for the others to follow.

Taking a breath, Jefferson did as he thought he was being asked. Holding the basket to his chest, he took a handful and let it siphon through his hand so that the grains missed Jiminy and began spilling down behind him. Right away Jiminy’s tiny wings began the separation process, chaff drifting easily into the air as the grain tumbled past. “I think this is going to work,” Jefferson laughed before taking another handful.

“Grains and grasses are a cricket’s life,” Belle reminded them as she hurried to fill another basket. “The rest of us can probably sift them first to make it easier.”

Behind them, the witch could only grumble as she watched the pile of pure grain grow before her eyes.

* * *

When the last bit of grain hit the pile, Rumplestiltskin turned a sneer to the witch, enjoying the group’s victory. “I believe your conditions were met.” He strode forward, chest out, to where Ruby still pinned the woman to the ground. “She’s in a ‘giving mood,’ Miss Lucas. And we just completed the task she put to us. I don’t think we’re in any danger of our dear little grandmother running off. We made a deal and now she’s going to keep her end of it.”

Ruby snarled once, but stepped away, glaring over her shoulder as she crossed to where Jiminy the cricket stood, tired, on the pile of grain. She nosed at him, then placed her head under Dorothy’s hand and stared at the old woman who was slowly getting back on her feet.

“No tricks from you, Child of the Moon. I will keep to the promise I made with the Dark One, as everyone knows they must.” The witch stepped onto the porch, opened the door to her hut, and turned to face Rumple. “Aren’t you coming?”

“And be thrown into your oven?” He chuckled, though he saw the look of terror that washed over Belle’s face at his words. “Not likely. No, I’ll wait here, since you know what happens to _anyone_ who breaks deals with me.”

Jefferson hissed angrily when the witch stepped inside. “What keeps her from making that shack walk off without us?”

“My reputation,” Rumple answered simply. He felt the weight of the reply somewhere deeply in his heart. It was an old card to pull, one he now realized he didn’t want any more. He had Belle and Gideon, had friends that accepted him, extended family that welcomed him to their table because they _wanted_ him and not because they feared what he would do if they ignored him. The old shell of the scaly crocodile was breaking away and now that he could see what was revealed in the small cracks, he was ready to be rid of it completely.

Moments later, the witch returned carrying a round object that shone as brightly as a lantern. Her hand and face were aglow with a pure, golden light that seemed somehow the opposite of her nature and when she stretched her arm to Rumplesiltskin he felt almost blinded at first, the contrast between the orb and the night too much for his eyes to take in. “This clew will lead you to your lost girl,” she told him, plopping it into his now open palm. “Simply find her trail and the thread will do the rest.”

“Thread?” Belle tipped her head and moved to stand at Rumple’s side then gently caressed the ball with a fingertip.

“You think your keeper is the only one who can spin things into gold?” The witch scoffed at her, folding her arms over her chest. “Maybe he’s not as _special_ as he makes himself out to be.”

Belle shot a look at the woman that Rumple thought would have killed her if it were something tangible. He could read the dare in her blue eyes and imagine the challenge she was fighting to hold back. Resting his free hand on the small of her back, he drew Belle closer and opened his mouth to speak, but Jefferson didn’t grant him the time.

“Wait. You said this would help us find her.” Jefferson pointed at the clew in Rumple’s hand even as he walked away from it, marching himself straight to the porch to stare the woman down.

“And it will,” she told him.

Dorothy blinked then looked around. “But you just told us we had to find her trail first.”

Eyes burning with rage, Jefferson moved so that he stood toe to toe with the witch, head bent until his face was practically touching hers. “Maybe you’ve lived alone in your wandering chicken coop for so long that you _forget_ what it is like to have someone to live for, but my _daughter_ is out there. Alone. Lost. So you’re going to make that fancy ball of yarn find her.”

“I can’t do what can’t be done,” the witch answered back, standing her ground. “String and thread are useless unless they have something to _stitch_ to.” She stretched upward and tipped her head as if she were staring at Jefferson’s scarf. “You should know that more than most… Hatter.”

Beside Dorothy, Ruby huffed, then bounded from the side of the house to put a paw next to one of the many chicken-toed footprints left on the ground. She lowered her head to sniff, then moved along to the next before turning her head back to look at the others. Rumple nodded at her thought process. If the comb follows the house, retracing the building’s literal steps would most likely take them where they needed to go.

With a sigh, the witch waved her hand at the wolf. “Send your girl-pet that way,” she told Dorothy. “Eventually she will catch the scent.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson whispered, body finally relaxing. Taking a deep breath, he bounded from the hut and joined Belle at Rumple’s side. “Let’s go.”

Rumple released Belle to turn and clap his friend on the back, as much to prevent the other man from grabbing his hand as to show his support. “We’ll find her,” he promised as Ruby lowered her nose to the ground once more and paced away with Dorothy by her side. Jiminy chirped and followed them, flitting beside the woman, then the wolf as they made their way to where Grace would most certainly be. (This ending needs work? Fix if yes, delete if no.)

* * *

Jefferson ran his fingers through his hair as they hurried after Ruby, his long strides forcing Belle to take about three steps for each of his. She had lost count of how many times he’d repeated that one action and his hair was now so tousled that she was _almost_ at the point where she would grab his wrist the next time his hand lifted to his head. “If the house was this way, the portal was too.” She had to push the words out with every step, trying to catch her breath as they moved along. “Grace will be somewhere up ahead. We can find her.” 

“I know, I just-” His voice cracked and he turned his eyes skyward. “How can I _not_ feel like I am _always_ abandoning her.”

Belle caught his arm finally, stopping him in his tracks. “When I gave Gideon away… it was the _hardest_ thing that I had ever done and it is probably the hardest thing I will _ever_ have to do, but what happened to him, the Black Fairy and everything else? That was _her_ fault, not mine. What happened to Grace, falls on Regina and Cora, _not_ you.”

“I could have-”

“No,” Rumple interrupted as he caught up to them from behind. “’Could have’ doesn’t change anything. It only adds a weight to your shoulders that continues to push you down every day, through eternity. I lost Baelfire. Unquestionably. _I_ lost him. He asked me to go with him and I didn’t, and that guilt is never going to leave me. The only thing _you_ are guilty of is wanting to help people.” Unable to stop herself, Belle snaked her arm around her husband, pulling him close, wishing she could ease some of the weight from him. “And that is _nothing_ that should weigh you down.”

Rumple reached up to clasp his hand at the back of Jefferson’s head, just as Belle had seen him do with Gideon, it was a gentle, fatherly gesture that brought tears to the other man’s eyes, but also began the hint of a smile on his face.

The moment was interrupted by a distant, familiar howl and all three of their heads jerked at once to squint into the darkness. “They found her trail?” Belle continued forward a few steps, then froze when she heard the rapid flap of insect wings. “Jiminy?”

Incessant chirping confirmed her suspicions as the cricket whizzed past her to land on Jefferson’s shoulder, tugging gently at the collar of his coat.

“They found her trail. We’re going to get to her!” Jefferson beamed and bolted, leaving Belle and Rumple well behind.

Belle let out a long breath of relief as she and Rumple followed, though at a more reasonable pace. After only a few steps she could just make out the shapes of a woman and wolf in the distance, along with what looked like a flying coat making its way toward them. “I enjoyed having them at the castle,” she told Rumple as they walked. “We should have them over for dinner, spend more time together.”

“We should,” Rumple agreed, though in a tone that suggested he didn’t exactly agree. She tipped her head to study his expression, finding the workings of a plan there, but didn’t have time to address it as they reached the others.

“Your turn,” Dorothy told them as they approached. “She found Grace’s scent here.” She nodded at where the wolf paced the ground, first in one direction, then another, nose down, movements frantic.

Rumple lifted the hand that held the glowing string, the light of it catching in the brown of his eyes, turning the golden flecks into tiny sparks. It was both romantic and sensual, and for a split second gave Belle cravings for a candlelit dinner. The ball sat on his palm, brightening the faces of everyone who was now circled around him, staring intently at the stillness of it. “We need you to lead us to Jefferson’s daughter, Grace,” Rumple told it before lifting his hand.

In answer, the ball flew from him as quickly as if he had thrown it, then smacked into a tree, where it stuck fast.

“No!” Jefferson wailed, running over to the tree, hand extended. “No, no…”

“Fine toy _she_ gave us,” Dorothy humphed, speaking over Ruby’s wolfish snort.

“Jefferson, leave it where it is,” Rumple called out, striding to him and catching his arm before he could disturb the coil of magical thread. “It needs an anchor.” He nodded at the ball that was beginning to unravel and roll out into the night air. As it unwound through the forest its speed increased the way any ball might if it were tumbling down a hill. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped at another tree and waited.

The string itself held a fainter glow than the ball, something akin to the light of a distant yellow star, stretched thin as it was pulled into the distance. It was easily visible in the darkness, even though it shone brighter when it was wound, but the line seemed so delicate that a single breath could snap it. Belle looked from one tree to the other and back to Rumple, wanting to reach out and test the fragility of Grace’s literal lifeline, but decided against it. “Why did it stop?”

“Because the witch gave it to me and it will only travel but so far from where I stand,” he told her.

Ruby stepped up to him, snarling, then turned to Jiminy and Dorothy, tossing her head in the direction the string was pointing. The woman nodded and climbed on to Ruby’s back while the cricket hovered easily at her shoulder. “We’ll follow the scent,” Dorothy told them, the words barely escaping her before the wolf took off at a run.

“You really shouldn’t!” Rumple shouted after them. “There are dangers the clew will avoid and in these lands the tales of the wolf don’t end well!” His voice raised as he forced it to carry farther and farther after the trio, but none of them turned back. “Damn.”

“Hey,” Belle caught his arm. “We’re going to the same place. We’ll catch up eventually and if something happens, we’ll hear Ruby or Jiminy will fly back along the string to find us.” 

She released him and he nodded, gesturing at the ball ahead of them. “Then we’d best get going.”

“My thought exactly,” Jefferson said as he strode forward.

“Well, unless _you_ plan on carrying me, I think you’d better slow down or you’ll end up getting there in _many_ fits and starts,” Rumple teased. He caught Belle’s hand in his and she felt the pressure of his grip. Something was festering behind their current situation, some feeling that she couldn’t quite read. She recognized that he needed her strength and clung to the hope her touch could provide it for him and help him to be the hero that would bring Grace home

“Are you all right?” She asked as they started walking.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

Jefferson, now slowed to their pace, turned his gaze from the golden glow to cast a suspicious look their way. “If you say so.”

Ahead of them the string began to unwind again, moving at their pace, guiding the way. The ball’s glow illuminated the forest, filling the darkness with the light of several torches. Though it was airborne, it maneuvered around logs and large stones that the three would have to step over, leaving its glittering trail behind. Belle marveled at the object’s ability to discern exactly what could be a hazard to them and learned quickly to accept when it detoured from a direct path. At one point, it skirted a tiny clearing in the trees, no bigger than a few feet around, and she hesitated, staring out into the space, curiosity burning at her. 

A hand gripped her shoulder, then let go. She looked up to see Rumple walking onward, forcing the string to continue marking their way, then turned when she heard Jefferson grunt as he tossed a stone the size of her head into the center of the empty space the string had avoided. The moment the rock hit the leafy ground it continued downward, taking the floor of the clearing with it. She let out a gasp of surprise as she stared at the hunter’s trap, then tipped her head up to Jefferson, who only shrugged. “He told us that yarn would keep us safe.” The man’s tone was blank and emotionless, but his eyes were filled with worry. “What if Grace-”

“It’s _taking_ us to Grace,” she reminded him, resting a hand on his arm. “All we have to do-”

A wolf’s howl echoed in the distance, bouncing through the trees and Jefferson’s eyes widened in surprise. “Grace! They found her!” He dashed away, catching Belle’s hand and dragging her with him, following the thin glint of light as it bobbed and wove its way through the Infinite Forest. They both ran without worry, knowing their footing was secure, though Belle gave a thought to be grateful she’d chosen flat shoes over heels for Snow’s party. Since they weren’t catching up with Rumple, she could only assume he also had sped up his pace, as eager to find his honorary niece as were the rest.

When they saw the yellow glow in the distance, Jefferson released her to continue on at a pace she would never have managed. His legs tore over the ground, eating it up at a speed only achieved by the desperate and when he reached the place where Rumple stopped, he grabbed the man’s head between his palms and planted a long, grateful kiss directly onto her husband’s lips. Belle giggled as she caught up, amused by the sight of Rumple who was first shocked into motionlessness, then rigid with uncertainty as their friend’s lips lingered far longer than was necessary. Still, she noticed that Rumple never once resisted, never pushed Jefferson away, simply stood and accepted the unusual expression of gratitude until it was over and Jefferson moved off with a weepy, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Rumple said as he gestured ahead.

Belle couldn’t make out what had stopped them until she reached where they stood and found a small chasm where part of the hill had given way. “A sinkhole?” She swallowed as she studied the area. Though it was long and narrow, it was too wide to jump at any point and the crew was not offering to guide them around it.

“Or something close to it,” Rumple told her. “There’s water down there. Probably an underground stream that’s been eating at the rock for centuries and finally reached a point where there was nothing left to support the ceiling.”

The howling came again and Belle realized that it echoed not because it was bouncing off the trees, but because it was coming from down in the darkness. “Ruby?” The flicking of wings came to her ear, growing louder with every breath. It approached from the farthest end of the empty space and Jiminy perched himself on her shoulder, chirping frantically. He pantomimed running, then dove from her shoulder, making flips in the air as he drifted to the ground. “The ledge gave way,” she translated for the others.

The cricket’s head bobbed as he answered. She took that to mean she was right. 

“Where are they?” Jefferson hurried to him. “Is Grace down there?”

“Papa?” The cry was distant, but strong and was followed by a splashing sound and the clattering of pebbles. 

“Grace!” Jefferson almost dashed for the ledge, but Rumple held him back.

“The rest could crumble,” he told him. “And the crew hasn’t finished its job.”

The other man pointed at the pit in front of them. “But we’re here. She’s down there. We can’t just-”

“And _it_ hasn’t returned home,” Rumple reminded him as he turned to stare at the golden orb that hovered motionless over the cliff, just out of their reach. 

“Then whisk her up here,” Jefferson demanded. “Do that beautifully dainty flick with your wrist and bring all of them up here!”

Belle sighed as she realized why Rumple hadn’t even attempted such a feat. “The condition of the gift.” Her words made the corners of Rumple’s lips tip upwards, but molded Jefferson’s eyes into angry slits. “The witch gave us the condition that we ‘do _everything_ ’ without the Dark One’s magic.” She felt her body slump as she came to the realization. “He can’t transport her out _or_ send any of us down to her.”

“Which is also why the cricket and the wolf have been effectively neutralized,” Rumple added, turning an apologetic look at Jiminy, who answered in chirps none of them understood. “It was my magic that transformed them. Anything I do could have serious repercussions. Sending us down there could cause a cave in, bringing them to us could drop _everything_ down, eliminate us in a pile of rubble… Let me guess….” He turned to Jiminy and tipped his head in curiosity. “When they fell Ruby got trapped and Dorothy either hit her head or got injured in some way that keeps anyone from helping Ruby. Am I right?”

Jiminy sagged his agreement, then pointed the way he had come.

“Papa!” Grace called up again.

Jefferson leaned forward, trying to peer down into the darkness below. “Grace. Can you see Dorothy or Ruby from where you are?”

“Yes!” The answer came back right away, followed by a quiet howl and more scattering of stones along a hard surface. “They’re on a ledge too high up for me to reach. Ruby’s leg is stuck under something and Dorothy won’t answer.”

Rumple made an “I told you so” gesture at the golden string, then turned to glare at it angrily. “I instructed you to take us _to_ Grace.” he snarled. “We’re here, but _she_ is down there.” He pointed angrily into the darkness below them. “You only brought us _near_ her. _Finish_ the task put to you. You have to take at least _one_ of us _all_ the way to her. Only once she can be touched is your task complete.”

The ball of string rolled through the air around the ledge and began sinking slowly into the darkness, lighting the area as it descended. Belle followed it with her eyes as it drifted away from them, noticing thin ledges of stone that jutted out at various points along the way. “There,” she said. “That looks sturdy enough to hold weight.” The three moved around to follow the glowing line and Belle squatted where the string fell, ready to scramble down after it.

“What are you doing?” Rumple’s shout of surprise stopped her and she looked up at him.

“Going down,” she said simply. “If it doesn’t hold me, we know it won’t hold either of you. Besides, I did some rock climbing in the time before you knew me. Unless either one of you have, I’m the best one to go.” 

She gave the men no time to respond, simply lowered herself to the first ledge and began moving for the next, testing the weight of the stone under her feet. It felt strong enough, though there was barely room for her to stand. As she followed the glittering trail to Grace, she pushed thoughts of Arendelle from her mind, telling herself this experience would be different. The magic the witch had given them was made to _prevent_ disaster. She would reach Grace and they would get her to safety.

Confidence boosted, she continued on her way, finding hand holds and foot holes in places where there were no ledges, creeping downward until the bottom of the chasm was only a short distance away. Now that it was illuminated by the golden glow of the crew, the vastness of the hole was truly revealed. The mouths of several dark caves gaped out at her, each tiny and trickling with water. The walls under each opening were slick and glistening with seepage, proving the string had indeed picked the best path. Most of the gaps and ledges were small, but their many layers told her the story of the place. Soft stone had worn away between each of the thin streams of water until there was nothing but the emptiness she was standing in. It wouldn’t have taken much for the soft ground above to come crashing down.

Carefully picking where to land, Belle dropped to the ground and felt the squish of mud beneath her feet as she sank ankle deep into water. An instant later she was knocked off balance by the rush of Grace to her side. “Belle!” The girl cried out happily. “Oh I’m so-”

In that instant the world went so dark that Belle couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face.

* * *

“What happened? Where did they go?!” Jefferson felt the blood rush to his face as he screamed into the darkness. A hand ran over his back, caressing him in something between a friendly gesture of support and a lover’s touch of comfort. It shocked him into silence and eased him from the ledge as his friend’s voice rumbled beside him.

“Relax,” Rumple whispered. “It’s gone because the hunt is over.”

There was a whoosh of air at one side of him and then another that came from behind before the contact with his body was gone and a ball of brilliant fire lit up the forest, blinding Jefferson for a moment as his eyes fought to adjust. He scanned the pit and the trees, swallowing hard against the anxiety that threatened to consume him once again.

“Papa!” 

He felt Grace before he saw her but Jefferson’s body reacted the instant she made contact, arms wrapping tightly around her and lifting her from the ground. It was a difference of only a few feet now that she was grown, but he refused to deny either of them the intensity of their reunion, squeezing her as tightly as she clung to him. 

“I knew you’d come.” Her words were a balm to his heart, the breath of them on his cheek bringing tears to his eyes. The dampness of her clothing seeped into the cloth he wore at his neck, but he didn’t care. Shutting his eyes to everything but the feel of her, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah,” he finally agreed through clenched teeth as he fought his emotions. It was all he could do and all he could think as he felt a hand grasp his arm, heard several clicks at his side, and felt the pull of the magic that would take them both home.

* * * 

There was no feeling more wonderful than the moment Rumple took Gideon in his arms. It didn’t matter if he was picking him up from his bath, lifting him from a high chair, or waking him in the morning. The rush of pure joy that came from such simple contact was never going to go away. He remembered feeling similarly with Baelfire, though the light Gideon sparked seemed just a bit brighter. Belle assured him it wasn’t something to feel guilty about, that it was a result of Gideon’s being returned to them, of getting their second chance, and even speculated that it was some product of his powers as a savior trying to press forward now that they had been awakened. Whatever the reason, the moment David slipped Gideon into his arms, Rumple felt warmed.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he fussed his sleeping son. “I’m so very sorry to have spoiled your housewarming.”

“Nonsense. A girl went missing and her father needed a savior.” David beamed as he said the words, then nodded out at the dwindling line of cars, where Jefferson was slowly walking, Grace still dangling from his neck. “Has he put her down _yet_?”

Rumple chuckled. “No. I think he’d carry her all the way home if he could. Separation doesn’t look good on either of us, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at it from the wrong end of the telescope.” David folded his arms across his chest as he shrugged. “Flip it around. I think it’s reunification that looks the best on you.”

Surprisingly, the man’s words left a warmth in Rumple’s chest and he nodded his acceptance of them. “Perhaps you’re right,” he told him, fussing at the blanket that wrapped Gideon before looking up at Jefferson. The hatter was shutting the passenger door of his car and lifted a hand in farewell before rounding the vehicle to his own seat, understandably eager to head home. “Let us make it up to you.” Rumple turned a pleading look back to David, making his tone stern once he could see the man was about to object. “A picnic in the park. Tomorrow, around noon?”

David’s eyes widened in surprise. “Rumplestiltskin on a picnic,” he teased. “Suit and all? Can’t say that image ever came to mind.”

“It’s a bit of a… family tradition,” Rumple admitted after a pause to gather his explanation into something useful. He thought about the picnics Belle had insisted on at the Dark Castle and the lunches she would bring to the shop in the lidded basket, meals sometimes eaten in and sometimes taken elsewhere, in places where they could hide away from everyone, just as they had back in the Enchanted Forest. “Something Belle put me on to many years ago. It’s good for the children to get some fresh air together, don’t you think?”

There was a hint of understanding between them, a piece of the past that came to David’s eyes and Rumple imagined he was thinking back to his childhood, frolicking on a farm when the work was finished. Rumple had his own childhood memories of outdoor excitement, and though he was sure they were far fewer in number, they were no less cherished.

“All right,” David nodded, then pointed down the road. “But you invite Jefferson. He and Grace could use the same down time as the rest of us.”

“I will,” Rumple promised as he turned to leave. “See you tomorrow.”

The door clicked shut behind him as he left the porch and made his way to the Cadillac, where Belle was already waiting. He settled Gideon into his seat, buckled him in and kissed the top of his head, all without disturbing his slumber. Rumple didn’t speak until he was in his own seat with the engine running and the car pulling away. “I told them we would hold a picnic tomorrow. To make up for so many of us leaving the party tonight.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Belle beamed over at him. “I’ll call Snow in the morning. Tell her to bring the leftovers. There are bound to be plenty after we raided their guest list. We can supply everything else.”

Rumple smiled. “Better make sure we have some of those berry tarts Jefferson loves. He’s invited too.”

There was a giggle from the other side of the car, one that was stifled and fought against, but a giggle nonetheless. Rumple cast his eyes sideways for a brief glance at Belle, who was staring at him in amusement. “Yeah, about that…” He heard her shift in her seat and felt her staring at him so strongly that he could not resist the urge to roll his shoulders to find relief from the mental discomfort. “Should I be expecting a new arrangement between us?”

“No idea what you mean,” Rumple huffed, knowing that his guise of misunderstanding would get him nowhere.

“Well, I mean, I always knew Jefferson was willing, but I’d never pinned you as someone who would accept his advances.”

Rumple snorted, hoping it would come out as a sound of distaste, but it seemed only to add fuel to Belle’s bright eyed reaction. “The man was ecstatic. You know how he gets when he’s overstimulated,” he grumbled. Silence followed his answer and he stopped the car on the road so that he could turn to scowl at her. “We are _not_ following the example of the cricket’s… red… slipper… trio?” By now utter embarrassment had consumed him, forcing him to stumble over his words and he mentally swore at himself to quit while he was ahead.

“The red slippered cricket family, hm? You’ve clearly given this some thought. I suppose if we followed that example we’d be... The golden hat family?” Though Belle turned to sit forward, she watched him from the corner of her eye, her smile growing as his jaw dropped open and he fought to find something, _anything_ to say. Finally her hand reached out to rest on his knee and patted it gently. “I’m teasing,” she admitted even though she didn’t have to. “I _do_ know the two of you are only friends.”

Belle gently caressed his leg, then released him and nodded at the road, silently telling him to drive on. They only made it several more yards before she spoke again. “I just didn’t think you enjoyed sharing ‘benefits.’”

Head swiveling to shoot a nasty glare Belle’s way, Rumple read the desire in her eyes and let his expression melt into a wicked grin. “If you think _that_ was an example of ‘benefits,’ I think I have something to show you once we’re home…”


	3. I Had A Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for Chapter 3 was Vacation. I decided that I would challenge myself to send Belle on a vacation in both periods where the story takes place and play around with the picnic basket a little as well. This was the chapter where I realized I would take the titles from the song, because I'd hoped to make it seem as if Rumple was treating Belle like a queen while she was away, serving her every need and not letting her lift a finger.
> 
> The moodboard and my message about this chapter can be found [here](https://peacehopeandrats.tumblr.com/post/624628302993293312/mountain-streams-chapter-3).

The weather was perfect for an afternoon at the park. The sun shining down was just warm enough that the shade felt comfortable and the light, infrequent breeze left a cooling caress on the skin. Somewhere, David knew, the birds were happily singing, but in the clearing beside the pond, reserved by the Golds for the day’s picnic, the only sounds were laughter and friendly chatting. Green grass was covered in every form of blanket imaginable and all types of food took up the picnic benches that scattered the area. Families and friends mingled, blanket hopping as they rose to fill their plates, then settled elsewhere to spend time with others. Standing back for a moment to take it all in, David realized just how much he enjoyed being a part of a group of people this large and welcoming.

Ahead of him, Rumplestiltskin carefully balanced Gideon in his arms while passing a plate to Grumpy, twisting at the waist to indicate Belle, who stood at one of the picnic tables. She smiled and waved and the dwarf returned the gesture, calling out a cheerful, “Thanks, sister!” before digging in. Everyone was happy, everyone was together, and it was all because of someone who hadn’t been given enough credit for anything he’d done.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Snow murmured as she brushed up against David’s side, then playfully tried to poke their son’s belly. David hummed in question, turning from the gathering to look at her. His mind had taken in every word she’d said but was so preoccupied with its own thoughts that it felt as if the words were spoken in some ancient tongue that needed to be translated before it could be understood. His wife, ever understanding, smiled back. “You were miles away. Is something wrong?”

David shook his head. “No. Not exactly. Just enjoying the feeling of finally having some peace around here.” He took in the gathering, then looked up at the sky. “No monsters, no battles, no curses, just peace and happiness.”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “It _is_ good, isn’t it?” Snow squeezed and then let go, tipping her head up to study his face. “But that isn’t what you were thinking.”

“Can’t fool you.” David smiled at her and bent to kiss her cheek. The last hour had been spent running scenarios in his head and now that his mind was made up he wasn’t going to delay another minute when what he had to say was so long overdue. “I’ll be right back,” he promised his wife before picking his way through the blankets to where Rumple and Grumpy stood.

Noticing him approach, Rumple turned a smile his way. “David,” he said with such warmth and politeness that it _felt_ as if the man had bowed before him. “Can I get you something?”

“No, I… I was just wondering if we could talk.” He nodded in the direction of the path and Rumple excused himself from the dwarf’s company.

Once they were clear of the gathering Rumple gave an apologetic smile to David while he shifted Gideon in his arms. “I’m sorry again about last night, if-”

David shook his head. “This isn’t about last night.” He gestured at one of the benches ahead of them. “Mind if we sit for a while?”

“I would be glad to.” Rumple accepted the offer with a playful grimace. “Gideon might not be as big today as he was only a week ago, but I don’t think he’s any lighter.”

Thinking back to the only time he’d ever held Emma in his arms, David answered with a slow nod. “You forget what it’s like to hold them when their older siblings have children of their own. Of course, I didn’t have much time with Emma…” He paused as he sat, looking back the way they had come and trying to pick out his daughter and grandson in the sea of laughing citizens. “You remember the weight of fatherhood, but not always the strain.”

Rumple seemed to think about this and then nodded. “I suppose that’s true, in a way.”

“Are you able to put him down yet without checking him a hundred times?” When Rumple looked down at Gideon and fussed at the boy’s clothing, David’s smile was one of complete understanding. Fatherhood looked absolutely beautiful on the Dark One and David wasn’t a bit surprised. “Ah. Not even out of the ‘checking on him one last time’ phase. That’s a hard one.”

“I still don’t understand what I did to deserve this,” Rumple admitted as he played with Gideon’s tiny fingers.

“Well, I do.” David’s words finally brought the other man’s gaze up to his own. “You’re a hero. You sacrificed everything for this town. On multiple occasions. All this time we thought Emma was the savior that would win the final battle, but it was _you_ who truly lifted the curse from this town.”

A wave of shock and panic swept over Rumple’s face and he rigorously shook his head against the idea presented to him. “No, no. Emma’s the savior. She broke the first curse and she always chose the right path afterward.”

“And _you_ broke the last one,” David insisted. “But it isn’t just the days after that prove you make the right choices. You helped many of us, countless times.” He saw Rumple’s mouth open and shook his head to stop what he knew was an oncoming protest. “It’s true that some of your help came with a price, but I’ve spent the last few days thinking a lot about how we all saw you. Do you remember the day you came for help finding Belle?”

Rumple nodded. “Not exactly something I could ever forget.”

“You were just as lost and lonely as the rest of us and everyone refused to see it, including me.”

“I spent years building up that reputation,” Rumple told him. “A little hatred and spite is bound to leap up and bite you when you spend a lifetime making others suffer.”

David settled Neal on his lap and gestured at the celebration in the distance. “Look around you. These people are all here because _you_ invited them.”

“Of course, now that word has gotten out about my severed destiny,” Rumple huffed. “The tide will turn when the moon isn’t quite as shiny and new.”

“We all should have seen it before,” David insisted. “Belle did.”

Rumple gazed out into the distance, eyes glazed over. “Belle is a very special woman,” he whispered after a while. “I don’t know what I did to deserve her.”

“You were _you_. The _real_ you. And Belle is the only one of us who was able to step back enough to see that.” A pressure began to build up in David’s chest and he released it with a long, sorrowful sigh that made Rumplestiltskin turn his attention back to where they sat. “I’ve realized too late just how clouded my own judgment of you was. Almost every time I needed you, you made yourself available to me, and the same can be said for most of the people at this gathering. Emma wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for you. And how did we repay you? By not _truly_ seeing you.”

Rumple sat back on the bench, a confused look on his face. “I’m not sure-.”

“How many times did any one of us accuse you of something that you didn’t do and you simply stood before us taking the abuse? We threw sticks and stones at you whenever we got the chance. Sure, we were kind when we _needed_ you, but when you needed _us_? When you needed us to _trust_ you?” David waved a hand at the sky. 

“You can’t judge yourself against the reputation _I_ wanted for myself,” Rumple told him gently. “Pardon the expression, but if one rotten apple can spoil the rest, it stands to reason that a long list of choices made from the darkness in my heart will ruin the idea of one made from kindness.”

David flung his hand up again in frustration and let it slap hard on his leg when it fell. “We accused you of trying to kill Henry and you just stood there and _took_ it!”

He hadn’t expected the rush of emotion that flew from him at the long overdue confession, and reached a hand up to rub moisture from his eyes. There was a touch high on his back, a warmth and pressure that was unsteady, but kind. 

“I’m the Dark One,” Rumple reminded him before the touch lifted away. “I don’t get to enjoy the same first impressions as the rest of you.”

“But that’s just it,” David told him. “You confessed to me about being in love when you gave me the ring to find Snow. I knew then that there was a side to you no one else saw.”

Rumple nodded. “That’s why I asked you to help me find Belle. I knew you would understand.”

“And when things didn’t go our way I went right back to treating you like a monster.” David met Rumple’s eyes for the first time since his emotions had released themselves. He read the kindness in them, but also saw the pain deep inside and wished he hadn’t waited so long to have this discussion. They should be discussing diaper changing techniques and bath stories over drinks while their wives rambled on about their clumsy parenting skills, not struggling through the wrongs of the past.

“Because I _was_ a monster,” Rumple told him frankly.

“Not always. Yes, sometimes you deserved the anger and resentment you were given, but not always. I was wrong in that. I might not be able to see the good in everyone, but I _knew_ there was kindness in you, I knew there was _love_ in you, love as strong as I held for Snow. I accused you of many things without evidence. We all did. And I had no right. I made dark and questionable choices too, I had no right to behave as if you were the only one. I want to apologize for that. I _need_ to apologize.” David rubbed more moisture from his cheek with a hand that trembled with relief and stared into Rumple’s wide, surprised eyes. “I’m sorry,” he barely managed to whisper, voice cracking as she spoke.

Rumplestiltskin seemed frozen for a moment before his lips quirked up in a timid smile. “Thank you, but there’s no need,” he told him as he shook his head. “I’ve been keeping secrets since I was a boy watching my father swindle people out of their money, but the truth is the life of the person you’re apologizing to began before I lost Baelfire. We were living in a village then and he wanted me to save someone without using the dagger. I feared I couldn’t, so I gave it to him. Long story short, the power got to him and he ordered me to kill someone.”

David felt himself go pale as he listened to the story as it was told, eyes wide with surprise. “I… Rumple, that’s-”

“I took him home and gave him a memory potion to try and save him, to erase the feeling of power from his mind. It was the one thing he had always hated about me, the need for power, the hold it had over me. I couldn’t let him suffer the effects of what he most despised. As soon as the potion cleared his mind, he accused me of using my power to kill someone. What was I going to tell him? I let him believe what he needed to believe and he hated me for it. So you see, you aren’t the first to tell me that I’m someone other than who I am, and you aren’t the first to accuse me of doing something I never intended to do.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t apologize for my _own_ actions,” David reminded him, staring him down to show he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I need you to know that _I_ see you as the hero that you are, that _I_ know you saved us and sacrificed as much as Emma did, and that I believe you’d do the same again in a heartbeat if anyone here were in any danger. You proved that last night. You trusted us to keep Gideon and ran off to save Grace, and I _know_ how hard that separation was for you.” He bounced Neal on his knee, using the boy to prove his point. They’d both lost their oldest child, they’d both been given second chances. They had more in common than most would dare to see.

Rumple blinked up at him, eyes shining with moisture that didn’t fall. “Thank you.” His voice was a whisper.

“You’re a part of our family now,” David told him, clapping him on the back before looking up at the mass of people in the distance. He thought for a moment, tipping his head as he tried to work around the extensive family tree. “Actually, I think almost everyone here is somehow related to me by now…” They both chuckled at that, but David shook his head against the humor of it. “I don’t want that to make my acceptance of you any less. Now just nod and allow it or I’ll pull my royalty card on you.”

Laughter escaped Rumple before his acquiescence did. “All right. I accept both the apology and… whatever branch is open for me on the family tree.”

“Yeah, I don’t envy Neal when he comes home from school with _that_ project.” David chuckled and turned to the gathering where one man’s bright laughter drifted out over all the rest. He watched as Jefferson, once doubled over from joy, straightened himself to clap Archie on the back, then lean close to whisper something in the other man’s ear. The Doctor’s face reddened briefly, before he smiled and returned to whatever conversation they had been having, his serious demeanor returned.

“Speaking of family,” David pressed. “What’s going on with Doctor Hopper?”

Beside him Rumple sighed, his body stiffening. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Instantly recognizing the look of a Dark One with a secret, David tried to back off. “Never mind. I don’t want to put you in the middle of something. Forget that I asked about it.”

There was a pause before Rumple shifted on the bench, twisting to get a better look at him. “No. It might not be my place to say, but I _do_ feel that I need to quell any rumors that might be drifting around. I have always held Miss Lucas in high regard and to _not_ say anything would probably do them more harm at this point. I _have_ noticed a lot of suspicion aimed their way.”

David blinked. “I’m not sure how I feel about the cryptic nature of that statement. You make it sound like there’s a real problem.”

“Only in the local gossip chain,” Rumple told him. He sighed and took a moment to gather his thoughts, probably picking and choosing what information was best to divulge. “I’ve recently been made aware of certain suggestions spreading through town about Dorothy, Ruby, and Doctor Hopper, and, more specifically, how those rumors are affecting their lives.”

“How would you know that?” David frowned, confused.

Rumple shrugged and stared down the path, away from the others. “Because I just sold my cabin to our friend the cricket.”

At first David was shocked that Rumple would divulge such news, but he quickly realized that the transaction would be public information soon enough. The sale and purchase of property happened all the time, it was hardly the material for scandal. “Your cabin. Why would you sell that? Because of what’s going on in town?”

“Too many bad memories,” Rumple told him flatly, though there was a strength to the confession that told David the man had no regrets about his choice. “And you’ll forgive me if I don’t discuss specifics. Our deal was made in confidence and, no offense, but you are married to a woman well known for her inability to keep secrets.” There was laughter in his voice, the hint of a tease.

David smiled knowing there was absolutely no way he could deny the accusation. “I’ll grant you that.”

“What I _can_ say is that he was looking for somewhere that would guarantee more privacy than his property in town and that he mentioned that rumors were beginning to get the better of him.” Rumple looked over at David again with an expression that clearly pressed him to understand.

He did, at least he thought he did. “You’re saying Archie, Ruby, and Dorothy are being driven out of town?”

“I’m _saying_ ,” Rumple pressed, pushing the issue with a harsh tone that let it be known that he would have no further comment on the matter. “The good people of Storybrooke are assigning a definition to the word ‘they’ when no one holds the proper dictionary. I _suggest_ that while you’re in the mindset of doing good for all, perhaps some royal resolve to mind ones own business would be appreciated.”

 _Here comes the savior,_ David thought. _One small step of kindness at a time._ He felt the corners of his mouth tip upwards and his head bob once in agreement. “Consider it done.”

* * *

“It was really good of you to do all of this.”

Belle looked up from the punch bowl to see Snow’s bright smile and couldn’t help but return it. “Well, _you_ did half the work,” she admitted, nodding at the table that held last night’s leftovers. “We just added the finishing touches. And really, after our taking off like that with a good portion of your guests, it’s the least we could do.”

“Nonsense. Someone was in trouble and you went to help,” Snow insisted. “Any of us would have done the same.”

Belle shrugged, thinking about the mass exodus they caused the night before. “Well we didn’t _have_ to take the half the party with us. At least, we didn’t intend to.”

“From the stories I’ve heard, it’s a good thing you did,” Snow told her, nodding once in approval.

Ready to change the subject from apologies and praise, Belle made a show of scanning the crowd. “Have you seen my husband anywhere?” She’d noticed when Rumple walked off with David, but felt quite suddenly as if she lacked anything else to say. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable around the Charmings, but only days ago their children were at each other’s throats and though the pill had been swallowed, it was so large it was taking time to digest.

“Oh, he went off with _my_ husband,” Snow told her happily as she refilled her cup. “Probably catching up on all of the fatherly things we mothers wouldn’t understand.”

“You mean like insisting he has to walk past the bassinet every thirty minutes?” Belle giggled as she saw recognition and understanding on Snow’s face. “I can see that’s something David has _never_ done before.”

Snow took a drink, hiding her answer behind the cup she was holding. “Nope,” she said simply. “Never.”

Belle sighed and turned her back to the party so that she could properly face Snow. “Does it ever get easier?” She folded her arms over her chest and tipped her head, feeling the curiosity of her situation getting the better of her. Rumple wasn’t one to openly share everything that he felt or thought with others, but she had worried about him since Gideon was returned. It was expected that he’d be clingy, desperate to hold on to what was once lost to him, but there seemed to be something else happening beyond the simple joys of reunification. “Finding your child after they’ve been lost, I mean.”

“Well…” Snow took in a long breath as her eyes clouded with memory. “With Emma it was… different. She stayed the same age and we only lost her once. I couldn’t imagine losing Emma and getting her back as an adult only to watch her die, then losing Neal and going through the process all over again. Not to mention the confusion of his being returned to me as an infant after I’d just spoken to him as a grown man.”

“Rumple does carry a lot on his plate,” Belle admitted. “He always has. I mean, he hadn’t told me much about when he was younger, but from what I can tell he basically cared for himself until his father passed him off to the old spinners, then spun for them to make money for his keep. He married Milah, they had Baelfire, then she left… He’s basically been taking care of everyone else all of his life. At least, that’s how I’ve seen it. Now he has Gideon and I just… I worry that I’m not doing enough, that I’m letting him have this time because I feel like he deserves it, but that it’s putting too much on him.”

Snow’s brows knitted. “Are you worried that you look like you don’t want to be a part of Gideon’s life? Because from where I stand, it’s very clear that you do.”

“No, not exactly.” Belle shook her head and sighed, eyes tilting skyward as if the answers she was looking for were hidden among the wisps of cloud overhead. “I want to give him a break from it all. Not necessarily Gideon, but everything else. Make him close down the shop for a few days and spend some time where we don’t have to live on a schedule.”

“Long, lazy mornings sleeping in?” Snow winked.

A blush rose on Belle’s cheeks and she wished she could will the heat of it away. “ _Not_ what I meant either, though that wouldn’t be unwelcome.” She smiled to show she was joking and Snow returned the grin. Belle heard the laughter of the gathering behind them and suddenly stood straighter as the explanation of how she felt came to her. “When we were living in the Dark Castle, he sent me a way for a few days, claiming I’d been working too hard and that the extra work had gone against our deal. He tried to tell me he had work to do and didn’t want me in his way, but I knew it was a lie. I mean, yes, Jefferson and Grace had been to visit, but something happened to him after they left and he didn’t want me to see it, so he sent me to this little cottage he’d created down by a creek in the valley beyond the castle.”

Snow looked impressed. “Generous, considering you could have just wandered off.”

“He put up a barrier to keep others out and me in,” Belle told her offhandedly, waving a hand in the air. “And he came to visit every day. That’s where we started having our picnics. I don’t really believe he was doing anything without me, because he spent more and more time with me every day. It changed him, lightened him, slowly erased whatever was clouding his mind so that he could recenter himself. I think he needs some time like that, just away from everything, a place away from whatever prying eyes he thinks are picking at the weaknesses in his armor. Maybe it will prove he doesn’t need to be worried any more.”

“He _did_ spend a lifetime scheming and planning and fighting for his family…” Snow tipped her head in thought, then lifted her cup and pointed a finger at Belle. “Why don’t you convince him to go to the cabin for a week or two? Maybe you could recreate some of that time in the valley?”

Belle shook her head. “We sold it.”

“Sold the cabin?” Snow’s look of wild surprise couldn’t be hidden. “Well that’s unexpected. I thought he didn’t part with anything.”

Opening her mouth to answer, Belle caught herself before giving away Archie’s secret. “Someone was looking for a new home, away from town,” she said instead, maybe a little too quickly, but Snow didn’t seem to catch on to that. “And Rumple didn’t want to go back there. He said it had become a place where bad things happened and he wanted to be rid of that part of his life.”

“He really is trying to turn over a new leaf.” Snow sounded impressed and Belle tried not to let her frustration show. She considered the woman a friend even though their friendship had been as on again, off again as her time with Rumple over the last few years.

“He has always tried to do the right thing,” she responded flatly. “It just wasn’t always possible. I think now, maybe, it is.”

There was some silence between them for a minute or two while the party went on behind them. Belle heard the distinct squeal of Grace and glanced over her shoulder to see Jefferson chasing her around the gathered crowd. It was a marvel to her that the girl, Henry’s age and almost grown, still played such simple things with her father and she wondered which of them was indulging the other. Some of the dwarves joined in, as well as Ruby and Hook, and after a while Belle realized that an impromptu game of keep away had begun.

“Why don’t you stay in our guest house?” Snow’s sudden suggestion made Belle’s head whip around so quickly she almost got whiplash.

“Pardon?” She blinked, not sure she’d heard what the woman said.

Snow shrugged. “There’s a guest house on our farm, in the back, by the pond. It’s not much more than a glorified studio apartment, but it’s quiet and out of the way.”

“We couldn’t impose-”

“Nonsense.” Snow stopped her before she could argue further. “You and Rumple helped save the town. Besides, you’d be doing us a favor. We were thinking of setting it up as a place for our nanny to stay. The two of you could try it out and let us know what might need work before she moves in.”

Belle thought the last part was a bit of a stretch, but recognized an attempt to avoid someone’s rejection of charity. “That actually sounds nice,” she admitted after genuinely contemplating the option.

“And don’t worry, there are plenty of trees between the guest house and ours, you’ll have _complete_ privacy for whatever… picnics… you wanted to have.” Snow yelped the last word as Belle nudged her away, the cry of surprise turning into laughter that spread to Belle and turned every head around them.

* * *

The key to the Charming’s little farm cottage trembled as Rumple tried to get it in the lock. He paused for a breath, then tried again, swallowing down the ridiculous nervousness he felt about going inside. With no warning, Belle’s small hand came into view, covering his own where it clutched the door’s handle. The warmth stilled him and the gentle coo of Gideon in her arms eased his fear. Staying somewhere that they would have been relatively unknown was one thing, but three nights spent in a room that belonged to people they knew was quite another. He felt watched and judged on every action, even when he knew the Charmings would do nothing of the sort. It was madness and it was eating him alive.

“Rumple,” Belle whispered as her fingers tightened around his hand. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just… nervous.”

The trickle of her laughter was sweet and musical. “Nervous?” She tipped her head and gave him a stern look. “Rumplestiltskin, you have _two_ sons and I’m the mother of one of them. I know you’ve spent at least two nights with a woman before.”

Unable to help himself, Rumple chuckled, dropping his hands to his sides and turning to look at her. “It’s not that,” he huffed before gesturing at the door. “This idea of using Snow and David’s hospitality when there are so many other places-”

Belle put a finger to his lips to stop his rambling. “We haven’t gone in yet. If you want to change your mind, we still can.”

He thought about that option, taking much longer than Belle thought he should have, judging by the gradual build up of concern in her eyes. “Being their guest? After all I’ve done? I can’t help but wonder at their motives, even when I _know_ this was something genuine.”

“It’s understandable that you’re still looking for the unexpected,” Belle told him softly as she shifted Gideon’s weight in her arms. “But I promise you these four days are only for us. No one is going to come pounding on the door. It’s just the two of us and Gideon in a quiet space by the pond. Fresh air, the sun…” Her words trailed off as Rumple turned on his heel, pacing away from the cottage’s single wooden door.

The sun… Fresh air… Belle’s words hit him like two large stones, right in the chest. There was suddenly nothing he wanted more than to walk around the tiny building and wander off across the field and into the woods beyond. Without giving a second thought, he started off, marching himself across the freshly cut grass. Behind him, he heard Belle’s yelp of surprise and imagined her trying to hurry after him, baby in her arms. The thought of a jostled Gideon made him stop. 

“It’s the past,” he called out, his back still to the house, eyes locked on the distant forest. “The last time they were so hospitable, I was caged.”

Belle waited until she was at his side before she spoke, moving around him so that she could look into his eyes. “But for the curse, didn’t you _want_ to-”

“That doesn’t mean it was pleasant,” Rumple barked, the sound startling Gideon into a small fit of fusses and squirms. Angry at himself for upsetting everyone he closed his eyes to try and manage his temper. “Do you know half the time they didn’t even give me food? I had slop and worms, if I was lucky. I remember the smell, the emptiness… I would sit there in the dark and imagine your smile or the blue of your eyes…”

The smile he spoke about grew in front of him and those same eyes softened into pure blue pools of tender love. “Why don’t you take Gideon,” Belle told him. “And let _me_ go in. Then I’ll be standing at the door and, when you’re ready, I’ll be the first thing you see.”

Rumple nodded his acceptance, eager to pull Gideon close, whisper utter nonsense into his son’s baby-soft hair, and take in the pureness of him. Belle passed him over and Rumple turned to watch her go before wandering to the edge of the pond so that he could stare into the reflective surface. “I never thought of those days as something traumatic,” Rumple confessed to Gideon as he rocked him gently in his arms. “It was just necessary, suffering I had to endure to find your brother, to make certain that everything would go as I needed it to.”

He paced the edge of the pond, talking as they traveled together. “Your mother was captured by the Queen once,” he told Gideon, voice shifting to the tranquil tones of a storyteller. “She was trapped and I didn’t know to come looking for her. Do you think she ever felt the same way I just did? Hm?” The boy gurgled as if answering and Rumple nodded. “Yes, maybe. Maybe she saw something in me she recognized.” He sighed and turned back to the house. “I don’t know if I will ever understand how I deserve her, Gideon.”

Gideon’s small arm waved in the air, reaching for Rumple’s face and Rumple freed a hand enough that he could offer a finger for Gideon to hold on to. “You going to hold my hand, son?” Despite the fact that the offer was imagined, Rumple smiled at the idea, envisioning the times he and Gideon would be strong for each other in the years to come. “All right. You hold your papa’s hand and we’ll go in together.”

When the door opened, Belle was there with a warm smile, kind blue eyes, and outstretched arms. “You all right?”

“We were just talking about how brave you are,” Rumple told her, teasing at first, then feeling a sadness creep in. “You were trapped too, for longer than I was, and I never once gave a thought to that. I was so selfish, so glad to have you back in my arms-”

“Well thank you, but we didn’t come to this beautiful little cottage to stand around and share the woes of our previous captivity,” Belle reminded him playfully. “So why don’t you come all the way inside and look around? It’s quaint, but so beautiful, and _full_ of light.”

For the first time Rumple realized that he hadn’t taken in anything beyond where Belle stood and when she stepped aside to grant him entry, his eyes widened in surprise. The room beyond was bright, lit from above by a skylight set into the tilted wooden planks that made up the roof. Every piece of furniture inside matched the colors of that wood, bringing the warmth of the beams down to the cream colored carpet and royal red accents on the large bed. By the door was an iron fire place that stood on four tiny feet, with a sofa arranged to face it and a tiny bathroom off to the side. Across from him was a small kitchen with two bar-height chairs that stood at a white marble island, all warmed by the bright light of a set of large patio doors. An armoire stood by the bed on one side, and a bay window on the other, stuffed with cushions made of the same red cloth that covered the bed. It _was_ a small space, but it was bright and beautiful and perfect.

The entire building had what modern society called a “country” feel to it, appliances all matched to a style similar to what one would expect in the Enchanted Forest. Both the kitchen and bathroom sinks resembled wash basins as closely as this realm would allow and the tub seemed to have been yanked straight from someone’s castle until Rumple noticed the drain and spigot hidden so well that he’d had to search for them. There were no cabinets, only shelving, and the refrigerator was masterfully disguised as a kind of cupboard. The attention to every detail simply astounded him.

“They’ve done well,” Belle told him as he looked around.

Rumple nodded. “Indeed they have. Almost makes me regret selling the cabin.”

“Don’t tell me that Rumplestiltskin, master of the Dark Castle, owner of the largest, grandest home on his street, wants to drop everything for a tiny one room space tucked away on the corner of someone’s farm?” Belle grinned at him as she lifted her suitcase onto the bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I have plenty of fond memories of life in something similar to this,” Rumple huffed back as she set Gideon into the small bassinet that the Charmings had kindly provided at one side of the bed. “Would it be such a bad thing for the two of us to live in a place like this?” He moved across the room as if he were going to help her, but caught her up from behind instead, wrapping his arms around her and bending to kiss her cheek. The fear he’d felt before had vanished and now he wanted her to ignore the bags and settle in for an afternoon nap.

“Two of us _and_ a growing boy?” Belle wriggled against him until he was forced to let her go before his body could betray him. “I think we’ll need to stick with what we have for a while. Where would we put a seventeen year old Gideon in a space like this?”

Rumple laughed despite himself, imagining stumbling over their son’s long legs and ducking under him as they passed each other in the tiny gap between the bed and the corner kitchen. “All right,” he admitted. “We’ll give it a few years, but I just want you to keep it in mind,” he said. 

A distant look crossed Belle’s face then and she paused in her unpacking, hands frozen in the middle of their work. “Somewhere far away,” she said softly, her voice seeming to come from a dream. “Where you can hear the trickle of a stream and the afternoon sun spills in through the windows.”

“Like before,” Rumple murmured back.

Her head turned when he spoke, smile widening. “Just like before,” she agreed.

* * * The Enchanted Forest - Before the Curse * * *

“I’m sending you away.”

The announcement came as a shock to Belle, who froze in the middle of dusting to turn a puzzled look at Rumplestiltskin. The man had been brooding all day, a state that she assumed had everything to do with Jefferson’s departure, but she hadn’t been able to verify her suspicions because the Dark One had been so utterly silent. Still, she had waited it out, aware of the way his moods progressed. He would skulk, then he would announce wild expectations, and finally he would snap, losing all control of his temper in a fit of anger. Now that he’d transitioned from statue to demand maker, she expected the final stage of his mood swing to rise up any minute.

“I’m sorry?” Belle stepped down from the short ladder she was perched on and eyed him skeptically. “You’re letting me go?”

“I didn’t say that,” Rumple whined, voice shifting up and down like a song. “No, I’m sending you away. There’s a cottage in the woods below the castle, a quaint little place that you’ll no doubt enjoy. I expect you to go there and stay until I send for you to return.”

“But-”

He tisked, wagging a finger at her as he crossed the room to press his face up to hers, eyes narrowed. “Uh-uh. No buts. You leave in one hour.” The wagging finger pointed skyward, then shifted slightly in a path that followed the sun.

“An hour?” Belle looked around the room at the work she had done and all that she had yet to do. “What about my work here?”

Rumple flicked his wrist, waving her off. “I have too much to do here and I can’t have you underfoot.” He was grumbling, muttering the words, something Belle was learning meant that the truth was being hidden among the spoken words. He’d done the same thing to Jefferson and Grace many times in the last week when he was pretending to give in to the pressures of their requests when it was obvious that he was actually eager to serve them. “Besides, you just spent a handful of days serving more than the usual number of people. I’m sure you deserve an equal number of days to rest. I’m not an unkind man. Our agreement was for you to come care for me and this castle, it mentioned nothing of cooking and cleaning for guests as well. By my reasoning, I owe you the time.”

The Dark One paced the rug as he spoke, gesturing and posturing as he explained away his expectations. Belle watched him move, unable to resist the feeling that she had been plopped down in front of a court performer acting out a play. She only realized she was staring when he turned to stare at her in return. “What’s the matter?” His words came out as a single sound, hissed into existence as something that had to be picked apart to be understood.

“Nothing,” Belle hurried to answer. “I’m surprised is all. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Well don’t expect it again,” Rumple snapped, cutting off her sentence with the sharpness of his tongue. “You will leave and you will stay where I put you until I send for you again.”

Belle contemplated the situation, the variables spinning through her mind. “What about food? Do you expect me to hunt and forage for my meals?”

Another brisk flap of the hand tossed her objection aside. “Everything you need will be provided for.”

“How?” Belle folded her arms over her chest, waiting to see how Rumple was going to answer that one. If he was busy, would the building itself simply puff something edible in front of her whenever she wanted it?

“By _me_ of course,” he grumbled.

She fought a smile as he answered. “Even though you have too much to do to have me under foot?”

Caught in whatever lie he was telling, the Dark One _almost_ stomped in frustration. “Perhaps I should let you starve.”

“I’d rather you come _with_ me,” Belle blurted out. Her neck snapped stiff the moment she realized what she’d done. Did she honestly mean the words she’d just thrown at him? Of course she couldn’t, it would be ridiculous to reject the offer of time devoted only to her own needs. The silence between them grew longer and more awkward while she fumbled for the true meaning of her outburst. Eventually she settled on the thing that made the most sense. “I mean, how are you to know what I need if you aren’t there to ask me?”

Rumple seemed unsure of her reasoning, but played along. “You simply say what you want and it will appear.”

“And if I want _company_?” Belle tipped her head. “You tell me this is a reward for extra work, but solitary confinement in the woods with no means of protection? That sounds more like banishment to me.”

“The building is under my protection, I’ll be aware of what you need,” Rumple repeated, entering the final stage of his mood swing. His body was tensing and Belle could see that any more objection might just be pressing her luck.

“Then when I start to go crazy from lack of company, I’ll be sure to expect you,” she told him before dropping the duster to the table and marching out of the room. Two could play at Rumple’s little mind games and Belle had lived here long enough to play against the master himself.

* * *

When the smoke from Rumple’s transportation spell cleared, Belle stood before the recently created hut wearing a simple yellow dress and her green cloak. He’d made certain to fill one of the laundry baskets with extra clothes and deposit that at her feet, but her entertainments were deposited within, awaiting discovery. He was certain it would be more fun that way, provide her with an hour’s worth of exploration at least. She’d always wanted adventure and this was the best he could do given the terms of their agreement, at least until he found another loophole. Perhaps he would try forcing her to join him on an errand or sending her on her own little jaunt to the nearest village for supplies, but until then, private time for relaxation could be his only repayment for her hard work.

Having appeared several strides behind her, Rumple had the opportunity to watch his maid’s reaction as she glared at her surroundings, all but stamping a foot to the ground when she bent to lift her things. In a huff she shouted out into the air. “A little warning wouldn’t have hurt.”

Rumple giggled, despite himself. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Belle spun around and jumped back with a yelp, hand clutching her chest as she fought to regain control of her breathing and struggled with the basket all at once. Rumple’s eyes followed the press of her palm to her heaving lungs, then snapped up to study her face once he realized just where his gaze was trying to linger. Her eyes were blue slits of frustration that bore down on him with all the intensity of a thunderstorm. “I could have been doing _anything_ before you whisked me away.”

“But you weren’t.” Rumple’s tone was flat, though the words came out in a sort of melodic cadence. He gestured at the hut he’d created for the sole purpose of giving Jefferson a place to raid and a sharp breeze blew from its center. “There you are. Now nothing gets in and _you_ don’t get out. So you see, you’re perfectly safe here.”

The trickle of the stream filled the silence that followed and Rumple watched as the natural melody softened Belle’s features. Curiosity sparked, just as he knew it would, she craned her neck as if trying to peer around a corner that only she could see.

“It’s behind the building,” Rumple told her, guessing she was trying to hunt down the origin of the sound. “And fresh enough for drinking and bathing.” When Belle turned back to him, mouth open to protest, Rumple flicked his wrist at the front door, opening it with magic. “There is a small wash tub inside. I may be a monster, but I’m _not_ such a barbarian that I’d expect you to bathe in the frigid stream.”

This brought a soft sigh and the gentle upward curve that was the beginning of Belle’s smile. “No monster would do all of this,” she told him, gesturing at the building, the small clearing set up with a laundry pot and fire, and finally the smoke that was already rising from one of the two chimneys.

Rumple waved her off with a huff, then realized that he really had no reason to have joined her in the first place. Mind whirling for some excuse to have made the journey with her, he finally settled on the only option that made sense. “Well, if everything is satisfactory, I’m off to my own little week away. Deals to be made and much work to do.”

He heard the echoes of her protests as he vanished, but chose to ignore them, just as he ignored how glaringly obvious it was that Belle’s time away was not much more than a pure act of kindness.

* * *

The small house at the bottom of the mountain seemed to be such a simple thing from the outside, made of moss covered logs, packed with clay and stone, but once Belle entered, she discovered an interior that was as finely built as the castle she’d been taken from. The building was divided into three small rooms. The first, which you entered from the front, had a hearth and sitting area. It was filled with both useful and comfortable furniture; a rectangular table and bench for eating, a chest and shelving for her things, and a chair and love seat, each adorned with stuffed pillows and folded blankets. Books littered this room, four stacked on the chest, a handful scattered on the table, two left on the love seat, and seven or more on one of the shelves. Her eyes drifted along the spines she could see, but didn’t recognize any specific titles before her curiosity pulled her into the rooms beyond.

A tiny kitchen allowed for food preparation and storage, with some simple work spaces and a small cooking hearth that was open both in this room and in the bedroom beyond. It was a cramped space, made more so by the wash tub that stood ready in one corner, but it wouldn’t be used for much if the Dark One’s magic was providing her meals. While standing in the kitchen Belle could look straight through to the bedroom, just by ducking to peer around the suspended cooking pot. The single bed beyond was intricate and inviting, fluffed to perfection with pillows piled high at the headboard. A night stand and candle seemed to be the only other objects in the small space, making it quaint, but comfortable.

After dropping her basket one the corner of the kitchen, Belle moved through the house, tidying up and settling herself in. The books were the first things properly arranged, the wayward tomes lifted back to their correct positions on the shelf before each was properly examined. In the end, there were a total of twenty, varying from adventure and romance to some practical reading on soap making, patterns for weaving and needlework, and even a volume on languages lost to time. The sheer randomness of the collection was mind boggling and Belle stared at it, wishing the reason for their existence in this place were as obvious as the titles that stood out on the solid leather spines of blue, green, red, and brown that bound them.

Picking up a thick, red book that had promised adventure and mystery, Belle settled herself in the soft-backed chair and began to read.

It was evening by the time she lifted her eyes from the pages, feeling the strain of a reader who had too little light to work with. Blinking into the rapidly darkening room, Belle closed her book and stood, stretching the kinks from her limbs. The table held a plate of potatoes, roasted vegetables, and meat as well as a pot of hot tea and a bowl of various fruits, the scents of it all beckoning her closer. As she settled onto the bench, every candle in the building sprang to life, flames dancing with the energy of the magic that created them. She ate by the warm glow, then watched as each empty dish vanished before her eyes.

That night, Belle settled into the most comfortable bed she had ever known and was lulled into a peaceful slumber by the musical trickle of the nearby stream.

Her first morning in the tiny hut was started with the loud, incessant calls of the local birds who sang to each other about the day ahead. It was like nothing that Belle had ever experienced and she lay awake for quite some time, picking out the chatter and song of each individual. Every morning before this had been spent in the protection of societal norms. Castle walls kept out the forest, other buildings provided a barrier between the wilderness and her own room, and no young girl in her right mind ventured out in the earliest hours of the day, so her experience with birdsong came only from journeys made once the small creatures had calmed enough to limit their music to simple melodies which they took turns to share. This morning, deep in the untouched woods, each bird tried to sing over the other and the noise was, by comparison, deafening, though very welcome.

When she finally dressed in her blue and white gown and exited the bedroom, Belle found a steaming bowl of warm oatmeal and freshly squeezed juice for her breakfast, which she decided to take outside where she hoped the cool breeze in the leaves and the melodies of the birds would make her life feel just a bit less lonely. Once the meal was finished and the dishes vanished away to wherever they came from, she fetched her book and rounded the hut to find a place to settle by the stream. Shoes off and bare feet caressed by the cooling flow of clear water, Belle easily found herself lost in a realm of warrior princesses and friendly dragons.

Time trickled past as quickly as the stream and before she knew it, Belle realized that the rumbling she heard was in her stomach and not the noise of a sleeping dragon. She sighed as she closed both the book and her eyes, a habit she had developed as a young reader in an attempt to hold the characters closer for just one more moment. The act felt as if she were somehow sealing them inside of herself, committing each person and the world they came from into a part of her own life that she would never truly let go of.

“I’ll have a picnic now,” she decided, remembering times when she and her mother had spent entire spring days out in the gardens, reading together, side by side, while they munched on fruits and cheeses and all manner of things as they shared the stories they held. Her mouth quirked up then and she remembered the loophole she had created when agreeing to her own banishment. “And Rumplestiltskin must bring the basket.”

A shout of annoyance soon came from the small clearing at the front of the hut. “That’s not fair, dearie!”

Belle laughed in spite of herself and padded around the building, tender feet picking their way along the ground until she turned the corner to spy a frustrated Rumple spinning on his heel to take in his surroundings, wicker basket hanging from his shoulder by a leather strap. “You said your magic would know what I needed and I needed company,” she announced.

Sputtering, Rumple glared at her, eyes flying down to take in her muddy toes. With a flick of his hand, Belle felt her feet become dry, her shoes once again covering them. “Do you have any idea what horrible little creatures you could step on?” He tisked as he crept closer. “Can’t have my only maid turned useless by the bite of some unruly spider.”

“But you _can_ lock her away at the base of your mountain for days at a time,” Belle retorted, eyebrows raised at him.

“That’s different,” he told her as he jabbed a finger through the air towards her. “I’m-”

“Busy and don’t want me in your way.” Belle first spoke over him, then continued on without him. “Yet you’re here.”

Rumple’s eyes narrowed. “I’m here because _you_ summoned me.”

“I summoned you because _you_ let me,” Belle shot back, pleased with herself when all the Dark One could do was stare blankly at her without protest. She held out her hand for the basket. “And I believe I expected us to eat.”

With a humph of indignance, Rumple lifted the thick leather from his shoulder and dropped it into Belle’s open palm. The weight of it almost toppled her forward and she found herself staggering to keep her balance. “What is _in_ here?”

The Dark One merely shrugged. “Whatever your heart desires _and_ the blanket to sit on.”

Belle nodded back the way she had come. “I found a nice spot by the stream,” she told him before turning to walk that way. Expecting him to follow, she hefted the basket to her shoulder and waked off, only to jump back when she turned the corner to find Rumplestiltskin already standing on the bank she had vacated in order to meet him. “If you keep popping around like that you’ll lose your maid to heart sickness brought on by paranoia.”

“Sorry.” Rumple’s apology was tiny, the barely audible voice of a child. “But I _do_ have things to return to,” he reminded her in his normal tone.

“And you’ll return to them faster if you stop playing around.” Belle lowered the basket and opened it, taking out the promised blanket and flicking it open. It spread on the ground easily and she moved the basket to its center, then sorted herself on one side, arranging her skirts before peering at the assortment of foods she would soon consume. It took a moment before she realized that Rumplestiltskin was still standing, toes at the edge of the blanket as if the border held some magical barrier that barred him from crossing. She tipped her head up at him, studied the bewilderment on his face, and couldn’t help smiling. “You _have_ to eat sometime.”

Grunting his annoyance, Rumple lowered himself to the ground, fidgeting and fussing with the blanket, brushing debris from its surface, and generally refusing to settle in the place he had chosen. “A bite of bread,” he told her, eyes locked on his own movements.

“A _meal_ ,” she insisted. “I needed company.”

“How can you need company when you’ve been lost in a book since you arrived?” Now he looked up at her, eyes meeting hers, and Belle caught the shock in them when she smiled in answer to his question.

“So you’re busy, but not _so_ busy that you can’t keep up with everything I’m doing?”

Rumple sputtered, fussing at the button on his vest. “Well… not _everything_ , certainly… I-”

“Here.” Belle offered some of the bread from inside the basket, topped with a thick slice of wonderfully aromatic cheese. She enjoyed playing her games with him, but there _was_ a point where she drew the line. If she wanted him to return, she knew that line had to be drawn right where they were.

They each took a bite of their food, chewing in a silence punctuated only by the occasional tweet of a bird and the constant babble of the water as it tumbled from the collection of tiny rock falls in front of them. After some time, Belle looked up to see that Rumple had relaxed, or at least eased some in his position, and smiled. “What made you choose them?”

“Pardon?” Rumple blinked back at her.

“The books,” Belle explained. “It is quite a random collection.”

Rumple cast the comment aside in the way he did when he was about to exaggerate the truth to suit his own needs. “Just a few of whatever came to hand,” he said simply. “Random choices. Hardly thought about it.”

She could have pointed out that each one seemed to have something to do with one of their many conversations since she’d arrived, but instead, Belle only smiled. “The Dragon’s Treasure is fascinating,” she admitted to him, falling easily into her habit of discussing plot, character, and writing style with her mother as they broke their reading time into two halves with their midday meal. “It isn’t at all what I expected from the title.”

“Isn’t it?” Rumple seemed uninterested, but Belle caught the flick of his eyes as he glanced over at her.

“You’d expect a pile of gold and jewels, perhaps a nest with eggs, but finding that the treasure in the title is actually the friendship the dragon shares with the heroine was truly a surprise.” Rumple huffed and Belle continued. “It is a treasure, after all, something you can cling to the way most dragons clutch at their hoard, though friendship is much more useful. And gratifying.”

Beside her, Rumplestiltskin’s body seemed to deflate as Belle spoke and she swallowed down the rest of her observations to study him. A different man sat beside her from the one that had been there only moments before, one who seemed beaten and worn, one who hadn’t eaten or slept, one who seemed to have lost all of the breath within himself and had given up the hope of taking any in again.

“I have things to do,” the Dark One grunted as he got to his feet. He looked out into the forest as if something more important were hovering just out of his reach. His hand waved at the blanket beneath him even though he refused to see it. “This will clean up after itself, just as everything else does.”

And with that Rumplestiltskin was gone.

* * *

_Stupid, stupid, stupid fool!_

Rumple screamed and cursed himself in his own mind as he paced his work room, boots clacking loudly on the stones beneath them, each beat pounding home another word. Stupid. Idiot. Fool. Idiot. Monster. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The random assortment of words ended only when his arm swept the table clean, sending glass containers clattering to the floor to shatter, scatter, and mingle with the wet and dry contents they had once contained. In front of him the white elephant remained, perched on the corner, taunting him with its presence.

Why hadn’t Jefferson taken the damned thing? At least if he’d kept it for himself, his life with Grace would have continued once the curse was cast. Now there was no way for Rumplestiltskin to protect his one and only friend from the horrible torments of separation that would haunt him in the years to come, thoughts and feelings that Rumple knew all too well. He had anticipated everything, even made certain that someone _else_ would pay the price of the curse’s most important ingredient. Yes, it was true that the princess would grow up without her parents, but as a newborn, she would know nothing of their love, have no memories of their tender caresses and soft kisses. Grace was old enough to know, old enough to remember, and her father, Rumple knew, would go mad with grief without her.

This was what consumed Rumple’s time at the castle, hour by hour, mind eaten by the angry truth of his own actions. Grace’s curiosity echoed in his mind, asking him why he kept so many things if he didn’t need them, but her questions only fed his desperation. He would collect everything, make anything, _do_ anything to protect his friend and save the sweet girl from a life without her father, even if it meant keeping Belle away forever.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in the clearing again, the weight of a picnic basket on his shoulder. “Nice try,” Rumple snarled out into the woods that surrounded him. “But you’ve taken enough of my time today.”

“Today?” Belle’s voice was closer than he expected and Rumple turned to see her sitting on the stool by the laundry pot, blinking up at him in surprise. Her hands were folded in her lap, resting on the yellow fabric of the simple dress he had given her when he had transported her here. “I haven’t seen you since yesterday.”

It was then that Rumple noticed the color in front of him was not the pale blue of the day before. His eyes jumped skyward to take in the position of the sun and told him that it was actually earlier now than when he’d left. “Must have been lost in my work,” he grunted as he lifted the strap from his shoulder and held it out to her.

“Then you’re working too hard,” Belle told him frankly. She adjusted the basket on her own shoulder and walked away, returning to the spot by the stream that Rumple felt certain he’d left only minutes before. 

Rumple watched as she set up the space just as she had yesterday, blanket flat by the bank, basket dividing her space from his. He idly wondered if she did that for the sake of convenience or if she was using it as a sort of barrier of propriety, keeping his body at a safe and proper distance from her own. The second option seemed too far of a stretch for the Belle he knew, but he supposed with a noble upbringing anything was possible.

“Never expected you to be someone who _enjoyed_ lounging around in the dirt,” Rumple grumbled once she shot a glare at his very empty side of the blanket. He settled with reluctance, clearing away what specks he’d tracked onto the cloth in a desperate attempt to find something to do. Mindless activities didn’t pair well with him, beyond the exception of spinning. If his hands weren’t occupied with the feel of the wool and the sound of the wheel wasn’t creaking around him, a moment of inactivity was quickly turned into a moment of wasted time.

“When I was younger my mother and I would take our books to the garden,” Belle told him as she unpacked the food. “Usually in the spring, or the warmer days of fall, but sometimes in the hours of summer just before sunset, if the weather was nice enough. We would settle on a blanket and read, then stop to talk about our books while we ate. We would spend whole days under the shade of trees, with the scent of flowers in the air and the rustle of the leaves over our heads, just reading and nibbling and talking…”

Rumple could almost see what Belle described, mother and daughter laughing together over some ridiculous plot point or so lost in discussion of the merits of a particular character that they would have to be rescued from their own relaxation by some servant sent to call them in for the evening meal. For some reason beauty simply radiated from the younger Belle in his mind. He imagined her eyes wide with wonder as they ran along the lines of each page, mouth making small o shapes of surprise or thin lines of worry as the story turned to test the only hero. The idea was so visible in his own imagination that he eventually forgot where he was, Belle’s voice calling him from the fantasy and back to his small stretch of blanket by the stream.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

“Hm. Yes.” He stiffened, then busied himself by finishing the pear he’d plucked from the basket while Belle had rambled on.

“You were off in another valley, I think,” Belle teased. Her tone was gentle, her smile warm, but her eyes held the smallest twinge of concern.

“Well in case you weren’t already aware, I have important things to be getting on with,” Rumple told her as he tossed the core of the fruit into the woods, making it vanish before it hit the ground. “And while I find your little story heartwarming, I expect you will understand when I return to what must be finished.”

He got to his feet when he finished speaking and gave her only the briefest of glances before transporting himself back to his tower, where he stood at the window and stared out over the treetops in the direction from which he had just come.

* * *

Belle established a routine easily during her stay by the stream. She rose with the birds, briefly washed off and dressed, then ate the meal that was ready for her, varying her morning itinerary only by altering the location in which she consumed her breakfast. She read until she was hungry, always by the stream, then called for her afternoon meal and the companion that always delivered it. With Rumplestiltskin’s departure came more reading, followed by dinner and a warm bath in the small tub by the kitchen fire, after which Belle would ready herself for the evening, slip into bed and sleep soundly until the birds called on her again.

As the days passed, Belle simply drifted through the hours, luxuriating in the ease of her life, grateful for the gift of time that only she could own. She finished each book on the shelf, one after another and shared her experiences with Rumple as they sat on the blanket, picking food from the basket. The one element in Belle’s day that refused to stay the same was, amazingly, Rumple’s luncheon visits. Each day he stayed longer, sometimes listening to stories from her childhood and occasionally discussing the things she had read. It didn’t surprise her to find that as a spinner he was quite willing to share knowledge of yarn crafts and the two often spent hours sharing what they knew of the various languages used for writing spells and prophecies, even getting into heated debates over the translations of certain words.

His posture shifted as well, melting the stiff outer barrier that he originally held up against the idea of casually lounging by the babbling stream. After two days he settled without being asked, and after two more he was practically reclining, braced back on his arms, head tilted to the sun that pierced the thick leaves overhead to speckle his rough skin and dance its golden touch over the glittering surface.

The time away from the Dark Castle lengthened, stretching from the originally designated number of days to double the time without Belle’s realizing it. She probably would have never noticed the passage of weeks if her small library hadn’t finally run dry. Closing the romantic novel as she finished it, Belle blinked out into the distant trees and whispered Rumple’s name. He came right away, basket on his shoulder, appearing on the bank as he had recently taken to doing.

“Well, it’s a bit early for a meal, but-” He cut himself off as he looked down at her, eyes taking in the cover of the book that sat in her lap. “Finally moving on to the romance, I see,” he chortled. “I hadn’t quite pegged you for the type, but-”

“It was the last one,” Belle told him. The words felt dusty in her mouth. “I finished them all.”

Rumplestiltskin flapped a hand in the air. “No matter. Plenty where those came from.”

Belle shook her head. “No. I don’t want any more.”

Before she could continue her thought, Rumple gasped, his hand flying to his chest. “No more books?” He peered around into the woods, then stared down at her with theatric uncertainty. “Who are you and what have you done with my maid?”

This pulled a giggle from Belle, something she was finding she did more of recently, especially around Rumplestiltskin, but the cheer didn’t last long before she was sombre again, consumed with the realization that she had been living a dream that needed to end.

“I’m ready to go back now,” she told him. “This time has been wonderful, but I actually miss my work in the castle. Day after day of doing nothing but things for myself is turning me dull. I can feel something settling inside of me that I don’t really like. A numbness that’s growing from having nothing to do.” Belle looked up at Rumple as she worried her lip with her teeth. “Does that make any sense to you?”

He nodded. “It does.” There was a pause between them that allowed a flash of uncertainty and panic to travel across Rumple’s face, but the moment was gone almost before it began. “Just stay out from underfoot.” The point of his finger waggled at her before drifting away, ready to snap them both back to castle.

Belle’s hand flew up to catch his, clutching it tightly. “Can we walk?” She wanted to talk, needed the connection with him that they’d had at every midday meal.

“It’s quite the climb,” Rumple reminded her. “Couldn’t make things too easy on the hatter, you know. He’d get suspicious.” He pronounced each syllable in the last word with his boyish tone, but the joy seemed to bounce away from her, traveling somewhere out of her reach.

Standing, Belle brushed her skirts and gave a quick nod of determination. “This time here has been wonderful,” she assured Rumplestiltskin. “But I need to be _needed_ again. I’m ready to go.” The announcement seemed to pull the weight of the title “maid” from her shoulders. While she’d never thought of herself as miserable, there had been moments where she certainly hadn’t been happy at the castle, crying at night or feeling alone in the day, but having spent such a long time in its shadow, she realized just how happy her life there had been within the building’s walls. Where else would she have learned so much about magical items and watched a master at his work?

“You’re certain? It’s a long way,” Rumple repeated, urging her to change her mind, but Belle shook her head at him.

“If you walk with me, I’m sure we could enjoy it.”

Instantly the hut and everything around it vanished, leaving them at the base of a path that snaked through the woods to lead them home.

* * *

There were two powerful lessons to be learned from walking up the slope of the mountain. First, Rumplestiltskin discovered just how severely out of shape he was. Feeling the pull of his muscles and the clenching of his chest as he fought for air made him vow to travel by magic less often, and maybe even shed a pound or two from the number he had gained since Belle had arrived. This is what came from being cared for, from having someone around to not only cook for you, but insist that you eat.

“It really was a lovely stay,” Belle was telling him as they climbed, but Rumple barely heard the words, his mind focused instead on his second realization. The woman made excellent company and he’d missed her while he’d kept her locked away where she couldn’t see his anger lashed out upon whatever came to hand. He made a noncommittal response as his mind lingered on the idea of her smile brightening the castle’s hallways and her laughter crackling around him like the flames of the fire, dancing through the air to lighten his heart.

She was good for him, and not only because she was part of his plan to find the Black Fairy.

“Rumplestiltskin?” The call came from behind him and he blinked, head swiveling around as he realized Belle was nowhere in sight.

He paused at the top of the path, not far from where it joined the main road that stretched out to the castle’s exterior wall and large, iron gate. “Belle? Where in the realms did you go?”

“Down here,” she called out to him.

Following the pull of her voice, Rumple retraced his steps until he could see her, standing in the center of the path, arms folded across her chest, one foot thrust out in a stance of pure frustration. There was a sparkle in her eyes though, which set off the anger, making it almost comical. “Well, what are you doing down there? I thought you wanted to get back.”

“I did,” she said as she started to walk forward again. “But I chose to walk for the company and _you_ ,” she emphasized the word as she grasped his arm to pull herself up a steep section of path. “…weren’t talking with me.”

“Yes, yes,” Rumple waved her off once her feet were securely planted on the flat ground. “You enjoyed the peace, you loved the books, and you wanted to know if we should use rose scents in our next batch of soaps.” He tipped his head at her, mouth turning upward. “Does that about cover it?”

Belle frowned, caught accusing him of something that he hadn’t been guilty of, though he’d actually surprised himself by producing the proper answers. “All right,” she accepted as she practically marched down the road. “So you _were_ listening, but you didn’t supply much on your end of-”

The complaint was ended by the sudden appearance of a man at the castle wall, his body bounding from a pile of rough rags and ugly debris. “Please,” the man begged. “I need your help.”


	4. She Lit My Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for Chapter 4 was Shine. For this chapter I wanted to show how Belle brought out the best in Rumple, lighting his way through the darkness, but I also wanted to show how Jefferson did the same. The shine prompt held a dual purpose in that context and in that I used it in descriptions and settings.
> 
> The moodboard and my message about this chapter can be found [here](https://peacehopeandrats.tumblr.com/post/624629499619934208/mountain-streams-chapter-4).

The man standing at the castle wall ahead of them raised his hands pleadingly. His arms shook with fear though he stood his ground, casting quick glances at the items that littered the area at his feet. There were old blankets there, riddled with holes and brown with dirt, arranged in a pile that was clearly meant for sleeping on. There was also a small travel bag and walking stick, a simple knife, and travel clothes that had been shed in a pile near what was the beginnings of a fire. Tiny wisps of smoke rose from the ring of stones and hastily stacked twigs, stretching thin fingers upwards, bending and twisting as if begging the sky to lift it higher and make flame. There was no burning glow, but the flint at the man’s feet suggested he had been caught in the middle of coaxing sparks from the kindling. 

“This isn’t a public wood, Dearie,” Rumple snapped as he stalked closer, body rigid with anger. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but my gates aren’t open to just any random riffraff that chooses to plead their case on my doorstep.”

“All I’ve heard is that your magic is powerful and that you sometimes help others if they’re willing to pay the price.” The man refused to cower, though the tremble in his limbs remained. “The gate wouldn’t open, so I thought I could wait here…”

Rumplestiltskin crept closer still, glowering at the man in front of him. “I’m not a matchmaker and I don’t speak to the dead.”

The visitor shook his head violently. “No, no. I’m not here for any of that. I just… I want… I need…” Now that the Dark One was mere inches from him, the man’s resolve began to waver.

Wanting to reach out and pull him away from the stranger, Belle called out Rumplestiltskin’s name in a kind tone that she hoped would halt his forward momentum. Once she saw that the tactic worked, she stepped closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “At least give him a chance to tell us who he is and explain why he’s here.”

A dramatic sigh escaped the Dark One before his hand flapped the stranger’s way. “Well? Go on.”

“I… My name is Jerrold,” the stranger told them quickly as he lowered his hands. “My family’s farm was raided while my father was away. Most of the men took what they wanted from our crops, but two came after my mother. They were hungry and…” Jerrold swallowed hard, turning his eyes down from whatever memory was too heavy for him to bear.

Just by the look of him, Belle felt she understood the true meaning of his abandoned thought, his definition of the word “hunger.” She wrapped her arms around herself with worry even as Rumplestiltskin stepped closer to her. His eyes were angry and protective in a way that he seemed completely unaware of and she wondered what he might be thinking. Could it be that he worried what might have happened to her alone in the woods, even with the magical protection that surrounded her?

“My youngest brother stopped them.” Jerrold hurried on when Rumple moved closer to the gate, probably worried that he wouldn’t be able to conclude his story before the Dark One acted against him. “Gave himself over to the raiders in exchange for leaving my mother alone. I just want to find him.” He looked up with pleading eyes, rimmed in red, which Belle realized now was a sign of his shed tears and not proof of the exhaustion from his travels. “I’ll do anything for your help to find him, pay any price.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a long breath beside her and Belle turned to see his expression soften. “I’m not in the habit of helping every stray off the streets,” he snapped, tone contrasting the kindness she knew was inside of him. His finger jabbed forward, pointing at the man, then down at his hastily created camp. “This goes,” he barked before snapping his fingers to remove every trace of Jerrold’s habitation at the castle’s wall. “And so do you.”

Another snap popped Jerrold out of sight, making Belle yelp with surprise. “You could have at least _tried_ to help him!” She scowled angrily, pacing around his still form until she could glare into his golden eyes. “He could have asked you for money or revenge, but he didn’t. All he wanted was for you to help him _find_ his brother.” Her arms folded over her chest as she studied Rumple’s blank expression. “I’ve lived here long enough to know that locater spells are nothing more complicated to you to brew than it would be for me to make tea.”

“Calm yourself,” Rumple hissed at her. “I merely sent him somewhere more appropriate to wait while I prepared something for him.” As he spoke the castle gate began to clank and groan as it lifted to grant them entry. “It isn’t just the spell that takes time, you know. The payment must fit the occasion.”

* * *

Unbelievable!

Rumplestiltskin glared through the open doorway, eyes narrowing as he watched Belle feed their new prisoner. Oh, he’d certainly expected her to give the man whatever scraps they had on hand and wouldn’t have denied her the need to offer water as well, but the woman was so trusting that she’d not only made him a proper meal, but had served it at _his_ own dining table. At least it appeared that she’d given the man time to wash up before depositing him in their best furniture and thrusting juicy meats under his nose, but even that allowance came at a price. Belle was too willing to trust whatever she was told and one day she would find herself paying dearly for that mistake.

Giving no warning of his arrival, Rumple stormed into the room, strode past the interloper and snatched Belle by the arm. Against her protests, he pulled her to the farthest corner before she managed to yank herself free and he spun around her so that he could keep both his maid and their newest guest in his sight.

“You’re entirely too trusting,” he whispered harshly as he glared over her shoulder at Jerrold, who barely paused in shoveling the food into his mouth. “Everyone knows the Dark One-”

“Your reputation has _nothing_ to do with this,” Belle answered back, her hushed tone sounding like the steam from her own boiling anger. 

“It has _everything_ to do with this.” This snarled remark did get a reaction from the man at the table, who looked across the room now with wide eyes. The stranger would probably try and run off, Rumple knew, but he would be ready for that. In fact, encouraging it would only prove the point he was trying to make. “Do you know what your life would be like if every man, woman, and child got it into their heads that the Dark One returned favors?”

Belle’s eyes narrowed at him. “Would it be so difficult to use your magic for _good_?”

“Not the point,” Rumple tisked, wagging a finger in front of her before it pointed over her shoulder at Jerrold. “Today someone wants me to find their brother. Tomorrow someone will hear the tale of the kindness bestowed on strangers and that someone will arrive days later, posing as a helpless traveler, a desperate soul in need of magical assistance. They will come claiming to have a lost cat or a petty grievance against their neighbor when what they _really_ want is access to the collection of magical things that they know I keep around me. And while you are feeding them and drawing their bath, they will stab you in the back to take what they need.”

Rumpelstiltskin acted out the scenario as he spoke, making a jabbing gesture, then yanking at the air with all of his might to prove his point. Belle jerked in front of him, surprised by the sudden movements, eyes wide. He wanted to read fear in them, wanted to see it so that he knew she had understood the truth of her situation, but all that he found in the blue depths was a sadness that he couldn’t properly read.

He gave her no chance to argue, simply marched away to snatch the stranger up by the collar of his shirt and drag him from the table. “People who take advantage of my maid’s hospitality behind my back pay triple the price, Dearie.”

Under the Dark One’s clawed hand, Jerrold twisted and squirmed as he protested his innocence, swearing on the life of his own mother that he had no idea Belle’s offerings weren’t his own. Rumple tuned out the words, hearing the desperation in them and clinging to it, feeding it with more whispers that promised various fates for wasting his time. Once he was certain he had the man where he wanted him, Rumple twisted his grip in the man’s shirt, using magic to silence him.

A choking sound followed before Belle’s dinner guest quieted and Rumple rolled his eyes in appreciation of the newly created stillness, then stared at the man he held. “Much better,” he said with a grin. “Now I think we can come to an agreement.”

The casual announcement made Jerrold’s eyes widen with expectation.

“I’ll take that wide eyed plea to mean I’m understood.” Now in the castle’s entry hall, Rumple released his captive, flicking a wrist to make certain that the doors around them slammed tightly shut, giving the prisoner only the stairs as a means of escape. He circled the man once, eying him as if sizing up a horse at auction, speaking only once he’d made a full circle. “The price for your request is a wagon filled in equal parts of wool and flax and the price for my maid’s kindness is a full bag of gold coin.”

Jerrold nodded vigorously, grasping at his throat and making wild gestures to indicate his eagerness to comply.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Rumple scolded. “I’m not finished. Remember, the price is three times what it would be, and since you have abused your welcome here, there are conditions that come with your price.”

This froze the other man in place again and Rumple watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. _Good,_ he thought to himself. _Let the man sweat. It will teach others to think twice before coming here on a whim._

Rumplestiltskin wandered the room, tapping his chin and pretending to work out what special conditions would come from his abuse of the Dark One’s hospitality. He rambled in half sentences, playing the part of the crazy tormentor as he worked out just what he would need for the rest of his plan. Though Belle’s words at the castle gate had calmed his initial rage at having an uninvited guest, she hadn’t been right about everything. Once his anger had cooled, Rumple _could_ see an opportunity to use this fool’s torments for good, and now all Rumple needed was to work out the best way to use that to his own advantage. He continued his circling and muttering until the man beside him dropped to his knees, hands raised to his chest in a gesture of pleading.

“The extra price,” Rumple announced once he had the man where he wanted him at last, “will be your time, your work, and your _silence._ ” On the emphasis of the last word, he bent low and drew so close to Jerrold that their noses were practically touching.

Braver than his groveling would let on, the stranger barely flinched, though his breath came in rapid pants that brushed past Rumple’s face and easily lifted the lightest strands of his hair. Jerrold blinked once, then nodded before gesturing at his throat. With a flick of his hand, Rumple restored the man’s voice and waited for the inevitable questions.

“How do I get these things if I can’t speak? And where will I get them?”

“Oh, you’ll be _able_ to speak,” Rumple told him. “And you will get them from the royal family.” Silence followed this announcement, making Rumple chuckle. “I expect you to march yourself into the company of Princess Snow and her ‘charming’ suitor and tell them that I have sent you to work off a debt. You will be in their employ for a full month and are to be paid in only wool and flax for whatever services you provide.”

“A month?!” Jerrold’s eyes went wild. “But my brother could be _dead_ by then!”

Rumple waggled a finger at him. “That is for _me_ to worry about, since you _did_ place finding him on _my_ shoulders.” He began pacing again, this time stepping from their guest to follow a straight line, then spinning to face him at a slight distance. “Now, as far as the bag of gold is concerned, _that_ you must acquire on your own, with your silence. I don’t care how you collect it, but if you so much as _ask_ a stranger on the street for a single copper piece, I will know about it and our deal will be broken. Is that understood?”

Jerrold pondered the terms of the agreement so intently that Rumple half expected to hear the clanking of gears and the grinding of metal on metal as the man’s brain churned out his final answer. “All right,” he said at last. “How do I put myself in the employ of the royal family? It can’t be as simple as walking in to the throne room and asking for work.”

“Of course it is,” Rumplestiltskin told him, grinning wildly. “You’ll have yourself taken to the prince and let him know that _I_ had heard of an old woman who lived in a cabin in his land. Tell them I knew this woman had some of the finest supplies available and I wanted them for myself. Trust me, he’ll either accept you right away, or come here to question me. Either way, you’ll have your work arranged. I guarantee it.”

With a sigh, Jerrold lowered his head in acceptance. “When do I leave?”

“Why, now, of course,” Rumple told him before casting a spell that sent their invader out of the Dark Castle and dropped him in the center of the wide forest road that led up to the gates of his new home.

* * *

The Royal Castle was a busy place even on a quiet day, but when the doors to the great hall were thrown open without warning, every eye in the room turned to stare at the unannounced intruders, voices stilling. David expected to see one of the guards when he turned from his quiet conversation with Snow to confront their visitors, but was shocked to find Grumpy, Sneezy, and Bashful hurrying in with a stranger in tow.

“We found him lurking on the bridge,” Grumpy shouted as the other two pulled the man toward Snow White. “Claims he was sent here to work.”

“I was,” the man eagerly piped up. “I’ve been sent here by Rumplestiltskin to work off a debt.”

David pulled his head back in surprise, hand shifting to where his sword would normally rest in his belt, but it came up empty. The mere mention of the Dark One sent a chill down his spine, made worse by the highly unusual request. Sending someone elsewhere to work off a debt? It stank of trickery. “Why would _he_ send you here to work off a debt you owe _him_.”

“He’s helping me find my brother,” the man blurted out. “And in return I am to work for you for a month so that I can be paid in wool and flax. It’s the supplies he needs, your highness. He seemed very certain that you knew an old woman in a cabin who had the finest available.”

Immediately, images of his mother came to mind, her smiling face, the tranquility of the farm he grew up working on. His muscles actually twitched from the memory of hard work completed in the open sun. Was Rumplestiltskin threatening his mother? The Dark One could do anything, why had he not simply taken what he needed? It had to be a warning of some kind, the hint that if this man was not put to work in the castle, the supplies would be taken anyway. At least with this backward arrangement David could easily validate the use of the kingdom’s monetary reserves to _pay_ his mother for the supplies. She would live well for the year, the castle would have the payment for their new servant, and the Dark One would get what he claimed he wanted. It seemed sound, but convoluted. He wouldn’t put it past the Dark One to manipulate things in his favor.

Snow glanced over at him with a frown, studying his expression, then called out to their visitor who was still being held at a safe distance by her friends. “Why wouldn’t we just pay you in gold?” 

“He was very specific on the terms of his deal to help me find my brother, your Highness. I am to be paid by you in wool and flax alone.” The stranger’s words came together slowly and with a forced deliverance, as if he were picking them carefully, another aspect of this situation which made David wary.

Still, there had to be a reason the Dark One had brought up his mother. She was alone on that farm, caring for the land with little help in the day. Was she being targeted? Or worse, was Rumplestiltskin using her against her own son? “You are certain he mentioned this farm specifically?”

Their guest nodded. “Very specifically.”

David sighed and raised a hand to the guards who stood nearest to the door. “See that work is found for our friend. He serves us for one month and no more.”

“Are you certain that’s wise?” At his side, Snow reached out to him, frowning. “We have no idea what the Dark One _really_ wants. Sending someone who owes _him_ a debt to work off that debt _here_? Something’s not right, David.”

“I know,” David swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “But he’s all but called out my mother’s name in all of this. If I deny the request, what will happen to her?”

Snow’s eyes narrowed. “We would send someone to guard her, of course. I know you say she would rather work the farm on her own, but-”

“We are battling the Evil Queen. The cost of protecting a single farm will be higher than simply paying for the supplies ourselves and giving them to the man once his contract with us has ended. I know that it is your kingdom, but it is _my_ mother,” David told her. “And this choice should be mine to make. Rumplestiltskin has helped us before. I can’t believe that _everything_ he does is meant to harm someone.”

“I hope you’re right,” Snow told him, allowing a small smile before their visitor was taken away.

* * *

Belle was in the clearing, hanging the washing, when she heard the clatter of a cart come down the road. Twisting her face into an expression of curiosity, she quickly dried her hands on the apron she wore and moved from the line to where she could see the road. Shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun, she peered first toward the castle wall, then away. Eventually she caught sight of Jerrold, pushing the largest hand cart she had ever seen, overflowing with supplies.

“Has it been a month already?” She called out as the man approached. Hurrying to his side, she offered to help but he shook his head. 

“There is more. I’ve been pushing one then the other in turns, keeping the carts within my line of sight the entire way.” Jerrold waved a hand back the way he had come, but didn’t turn to check the distance between himself and the object in question.

“I’m sure they would have given you a horse or a mule if you’d asked.” Belle hurried down the road to where she could make out a wheeled object in the distance, wanting to do something that would help him. The man had already done so much to repay Rumple for whatever indignities her captor believed he’d been put through, this final repayment of an equal indignity wasn’t something she was going to put up with any longer.

Jerrold called back after her, “I only took what he told me to. I was afraid that if I took anything else he would claim I broke our deal.”

Belle hefted the handles of the cart and pushed it down the road until she was side by side with Jerrold, then shook her head. “You’ve already done too much,” she insisted. “Whatever Rumplestiltskin has held against you is more than fully paid off in this effort alone.”

“It isn’t, though.” Jerrold hung his head, shoulders sagging in defeat. “I couldn’t collect a bag of gold. I managed to gather together some coppers and silver doing odd jobs for people around the castle, but it equals barely a few gold. pieces”

“Rumplestiltskin _makes_ gold,” Belle told him as they walked together to the castle’s gate. “I really don’t think that will be a problem.”

The traveler turned a curious expression her way. “Then why would he ask for it as one of the conditions?”

Belle sighed. “Why does the Dark One do anything?” She thought about that question, as curious about it for her own reasons as for Jerrold’s. “It’s true that everything he does seems to impact some plan he’s made for the future, but trying to piece together which parts go where is impossible.” As the gate drew up to grant them entry, she turned what she hoped would be a reassuring smile Jerrold’s way. “Whatever he needed it for, I think I can persuade him to accept what you’re offering.”

“Do you really think he’d be willing?”

Jerrold didn’t get an answer from Belle, as a whoosh of magical smoke deposited Rumplestiltskin directly in their path at the edge of the castle’s garden. “Willing to do what?”

“Dark One!” Jerrold dropped the handles of his cart, nearly spilling the contents onto the paved walk. “I’ve done as you asked. My work in the castle was repaid in equal parts wool and flax. I asked no one for anything other than what you dictated to me and served my time both in the employ of the royal family and in bringing these carts to you.”

“Hm,” Rumple mused as he eyed Belle. “Seems to me you had a little help.” He circled the carts, peering into each one, inspecting the content for quality, then flapped a hand into the air at his side. “No matter. Where’s the gold?”

The question made Jerrold swallow so hard that Belle could hear it from where she stood. “I wasn’t able to-”

“Weren’t _able_ to?” Rage began to replace the toying nature Rumple kept up as a part of the Dark One persona he expected others to see. Belle watched as the playful smile dissolved and the sparkle left his eye, replaced with a thin line of a frown and narrowed glare that told her his patience was quickly wearing thin. “A bag of gold was one of the conditions, Dearie. One I expected you to fulfill.”

Belle reached out to catch Rumple’s arm as he began to circle Jerrold, barely managing to snag his sleeve. The Dark One glared down at her hand, then up into her eyes, but she refused to back down. “You _make_ gold,” she reminded him. “You wouldn’t accept it from my father, who had plenty, but you expect it of this poor man who was already working himself to exhaustion to meet your other requirements? If _any_ of your conditions should be broken in this deal, I would think _this_ was the one you could easily let go of.”

“Let go of?” The Dark One’s anger raged, his body stiffening and drawing to its full height. The display was almost enough to make Belle step back, but she forced herself to keep her place. She wasn’t truly afraid of him. He needed her, as much as he needed anything that he collected in his castle. That need would prevent him from acting on his feelings, she was certain of it. “Let _go_ of?! What makes _you_ of all people think that the Dark One is someone who goes _back_ on the deals he makes with others?”

“You can keep any others,” Belle told him flat out, squaring her shoulders and stepping between him and a panicking Jerrold. She flipped her hand behind her back, hoping the visitor would notice the gesture and take the hint to flee while Rumplestiltskin was distracted. “But asking for a bag of gold when you _make_ as much gold as you want is unreasonable, even for you.”

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. “Unreasonable? I see I have to remind you that every price I ask for has its reasons.” He snarled into Belle’s face, forehead almost pressed to hers, she could feel his breath rush past her cheek.

“Then tell us what you need it for,” Belle challenged. “Or at least give him the chance to make it right.”

The cold eyes that bore into her flicked suddenly to the side, widening wildly. “As right as you helping our new prisoner to _escape?_ ” 

Belle spun just as she heard the snap of Rumple’s fingers, and caught a sight of Jerrold, frozen in place. He was trapped, mid stride, in his attempt to flee the castle walls and now stood motionless directly under the heavy iron gate. “If you hurt him _you_ break the deal you made,” Belle told him, trying not to sound as if she was pleading for the visitor’s life.

“ _He_ broke it first,” Rumple hissed back.

“Is the gold so important that it’s worth a man’s life?” Now her voice trembled as she begged for kindness.

The rage that had filled the Dark One grew once she finished her question, reaching an intensity that was so real that Belle could almost _feel_ it boiling inside of him. Finally unable to face him, she staggered back a step, body trembling as an inhuman scream filled the air, cutting the space between them with each sharp word that it created. “You have _no_ right to tell me what that gold was worth! It was _my_ deal, made for _my_ reasons!”

Instantly the world around Belle changed, the gardens replaced with the walls of her cell. She hurried to the door to try and leave, but it was shut tight. Her only solace was the sound of something hitting the ground nearby and the familiar click of a latch. Perhaps she had managed to save Jerrold after all, if only for now.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin paced the great hall, memories warring with his own desires. The idiot Jerrold had denied him a portion of his current scheme and because of that the Dark Castle now had a prisoner locked up in the dungeons. Keeping the man had never been part of the plan and in the scenario he had envisioned for the upcoming week, would prove more than problematic. He had the wool, he had the flax, but he _needed_ the gold and he couldn’t just send the prisoner out again to fetch it, but the longer he kept him, the more questions Belle would ask.

The sound of Belle’s pleas seemed to echo from the castle’s lower levels, though they existed only in his mind, taunting him, pushing him. How could someone with such intelligence question his motives on anything? Where did she find the belief that pointing out his flaws would rectify a situation that she couldn’t understand?

“It had to come without magic,” Rumple hissed into the air around him. “That was _my_ price. The gold had to come to me _without magic_!”

As the rage consumed him, Rumple spun, whirling on one of the chairs at the long table and toppling it to the floor. He seethed as he stared down at the thing, noticing the various intricacies in the wood. There was a scratch in the dark varnish, a mark left by Grace when she’d climbed up into her seat one day for their afternoon tea. The girl had been horrified at such a destruction of property, but Rumple had merely waved her concerns away.

“The marks from children are lasting memories,” he’d whispered to her. “They are worth more than gold.”

Vision blurry from unshed tears, Rumple spun and lashed out at another chair, knocking it to its side and slamming the heel of his boot into one of the protruding legs. An empty castle had been a place without pain. Now it was changed forever because of the one person he couldn’t rid himself of. She had done this, she had reminded him that there had been tenderness in his heart, had made him crave friends and enjoy the sound of a child’s laughter again. He’d even started to hope he’d have another chance, either as Grace’s “uncle” or…

No! He wouldn’t let that thought continue any farther. Belle was his maid, as much a prisoner as the whimpering fool who was now caged beside her. Forgetting that arrangement could be dangerous. The power he held was necessary, he needed it to find Bae. He couldn’t risk losing it to friendships and dalliances, that price was too steep.

Needing to calm his mind, Rumplestiltskin waved a hand to transport his largest spinning wheel into the corner, along with a pile of wool and flax. The turning and creaking of the wheel would calm him, the simple act of spinning the yarn and string would ease his mind and help him come up with some solution to this frustrating dilemma. He began to work right away, forgetting everything but the feel of the fibers in his fingers, the rhythmic rush of the tiniest breeze as his foot worked the pedal that moved the wheel and stirred the air around it. There was no Belle, there was no Jerrold, only the wool and the yarn.

Some time in the night he stirred from his work, realizing that the day had completely gotten away from him. With a thought he released Belle from her prison, opening the door to allow her to wander as she pleased. She would do what needed to be done and he believed he could now trust her to know his expectations and leave him to his work. Moments later he heard the tap of her shoes approaching, heard them stop in the doorway, but didn’t look up. His focus now must be on producing the finest materials ever seen. The old spinsters had promised him that he could spin for kings and queens and so he was, hour after hour, mindlessly consumed in the only task he could now do to complete his little scheme.

By the time the wool was spun, the light of day was peeking from the curtains and Rumplestiltskin stretched, feeling his body protest the length of time spent in the same position. He wondered if it had been a single day or a week or a year since he’d begun the work, though he didn’t much care about the answer. He had the flax yet to spin and in the meditative state of spinning the yarn, had come to a decision.

Striding to the mantle, he lifted the white elephant and carried it to the table. Feeling it warm in his palm, he studied the shape, the contours of the face and trunk. It was a fine piece of work, but it wasn’t the only one of its kind. These carvings were rare, but he knew where to find others. Swirling his fingers over the table, he called forth his largest mortar and strongest pestle, then placed the elephant in the base of the bowl and raised the pestle high above his head. There was a hesitation that pressed at Rumplestiltskin as he stared down at the helpless object, a brief but tangible swirl of guilt that tried to consume him, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead he slammed his hand to the table with all of his might, striking the elephant and breaking it in two.

“Stop!” 

He heard footsteps rushing toward him, but continued to pound at the white form, taking out the last of his anger on the innocent carving. Rumple’s shoulder jarred again and again as the pestle made contact with all of his force, grinding and chipping, smashing his hope into the fine powder he needed to break the deal he’d made with himself regarding everything that had come to pass so far. He was a villain. Villains didn’t have friends and they weren’t allowed to keep promises made from what little kindness was left in their hearts. Those kindnesses only lead to broken hearts and darkness.

A hand caught his arm, forcing it skyward. Rumplestiltskin could have struggled, but instead froze in place, allowing Belle to halt the destruction he’d started.

“That’s the gift you gave Grace.” Her statement of the obvious held a question within it, now that what remained seemed to be less elephant and more rubble. She said nothing else, as if she were waiting for an answer.

Rumple gave her one, muttering two simple words that were barely audible, even to himself. “It is.”

“Why are you destroying it? What have she or Jefferson done to-”

“Done?!” Rumplestiltskin whirled on her. “ _They_ have done nothing and now neither have I.” He turned on Belle, spinning his body so that his arm snapped away from her grip, and glared into her blue eyes, willing his anger to contrast her calmness. “You don’t know what’s going on here and it’s not your business to know. Tend to the prisoner, clean the castle, make the food, _that_ is your business.”

“Whatever is wrong, you can _tell_ me,” Belle tried to insist. “Let _someone_ help you. You aren’t the monster people say, I _know_ it. If you were, you wouldn’t have been hurt when Jefferson left.”

Rumple’s eyes narrowed at her as he stepped forward, pressing her back by his presence alone. He opened his mouth to question her reasoning, but she wouldn’t allow it, standing her ground as best she could, even as she allowed herself to be herded to the door.

“I _know_ you sent me away to keep me from seeing it, but his leaving hurt you. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s hard to say goodbye to people you care about-” Belle’s words rambled on with each step she took to move out of his way, but Rumple kept pressing forward until he finally had her backed against the door, stopping her chatter with the surprise of the contact.

“You know _nothing._ ” He hissed the words into her face.

“I know you feel alone,” she snapped back. “It’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t, but she couldn’t know that, couldn’t be given the opportunity to sniff out the real reason he needed her here. Instead of saying anything, he turned, flicking his hand at the door to open it, the shift of the wood causing Belle to quickly regain her footing with a gasp of surprise.

“Leave,” he said flatly without looking back at her. She would go or she would stay, but he was certain that she would at least be quiet, which was all that he wanted from her at the moment. 

Returning to the table he began grinding what was left of the elephant into a fine powder, making certain to use a hint of magic to keep any from drifting away. If his plan was to work, every speck of dust from the carving would need to remain. When that task was done he transported the bowl to the wheel that was now ready to spin the flax and sat with a heavy sigh. _I can spin straw into gold,_ he reminded himself. _This should be no different._

Carefully, he dipped his fingers in the white powder, made sticky by his magic alone, then began the careful process of spinning, infusing the carving into the thread that he created. There was no guarantee that this would work, he knew, but he truly _would_ be a monster if he didn’t try.

* * *

A gentle summer breeze drifted through the air, carrying with it the scent of roses and Belle paused in her reading to close her eyes and take in the beauty of the moment. She could hear the swish of reeds somewhere in the distance, the sound almost like someone harvesting wheat or running through a field of tall grass. 

Swish, swish, swish.

Lulled into an almost sleep, Belle’s head nodded to one side, then jolted upright. She heard more than felt the thwack of her head against the tree she had been leaning on and reached up to rub the place where she was certain her skull had made contact. Exploring the spot with her fingers, she found no lump, no sticky moisture where a cut was leaking blood. The force of the impact should have caused _some_ damage, she knew, but her mind had a difficult time grasping on to the truth of the matter. It focused instead on the swishing in the distance, until it heard another hard crack and her eyes flew open in surprise.

Belle found herself in her cell, on her cot, in the dead of night. The garden, the summer’s day, it had all been a dream. She sighed and rolled over, adjusting her body to try and find comfort, but bolted upright when the loud crack came again. It hadn’t been in her dream after all, she realized, but something that had woken her _from_ it.

Slowly she got to her feet and crept to the door of her cell, testing it to see if it would open. Hinges creaked as they rotated, allowing her to exit and Belle dashed down the corridor, searching every room, worried that the noises she was hearing represented the end of someone’s torture. Her search found nothing unusual, however. The chambers set up with chains, whips, and other such things were empty of life, free of blood. She next hurried to Jerrold’s door, standing on her toes to peer into the small window that allowed captors to check in on their prisoners. The man’s body was curled up on his own cot under a sliver of moonlight that dove in through the window high above him. Chest rising and falling rhythmically, he seemed unaware of the sounds that had disturbed Belle’s slumber.

Unable to fight her curiosity, Belle began to follow the noise through the castle’s halls, stopping only when she reached the door of Rumple’s study, where the constant swish and crack was so loud that even the thick wood seemed as thin as parchment. Carefully she pushed at the rough grain, wanting to know what was beyond. Feeling it give under her touch, she nudged the door open and slipped inside.

All of Rumplestiltskin’s potions and spell books had been banished to the edges of the room, stacked and set on tables that were shoved aside to make space for a large loom in the center. Half of the wooden machine was caged in moonlight, its working parts effortlessly dancing in a white light that was bright enough to fool anyone into thinking the sun’s morning rays had reached into the room, the other half was trapped in shadow, long strings barely visible as they stretched out into the darkness. It was this wooden machine that swished and cracked as it moved. Belle stared, fascinated, as the strings shifted, rising once, falling, then rising again. The movements were accompanied by smaller sounds, clicks and muffled thumps that seemed to come in random patterns before a single swish replaced them, followed by the loud crack as the loom’s giant arm moved forward.

“Well don’t stand gawking,” Rumplestiltskin snapped as the machine worked away. “You’ve seen what you came for, now back to your bed. Can’t have you falling asleep at your chores tomorrow morning.”

Ignoring his command, Belle stepped around the loom, eyes widening as she found Rumple himself to be controlling it, not with magic, but with the movements of his own hands and feet.

His eyes flicked up at her before returning to his work. “You think a spinner doesn’t know how to work his finished product?” An angry huff of air escaped him as he continued through the motions, arms deftly maneuvering the shuttle in and out of the strings pulled tight on the loom. The fabric he worked was reddish in color, with hints of golden yellow and black in an intricate floral design so complex that Belle could not imagine it coming from anyone’s mind, even the all-seeing mind of Dark One.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she reached to caress the completed fabric, the thin sliver of which was barely long enough to protrude from the loom.

A scaled hand smacked her away. “Not yours,” Rumple barked as he returned to his work. “Now leave, before I send you away myself.”

Reluctantly Belle retraced her steps, letting the clicks, swishes, and cracks chase her back to her cell and eventually lull her back into a restless sleep.

The noise went on for days, never once stopping. Belle cleaned and cooked and watched over Jerrold, but never saw Rumplestiltskin. The first day she had taken food up to him and insisted he eat it, but found herself transported to the kitchen before she could even set down the tray. On the second day, she’d confronted him about it, which began an argument that ended with her return to her cot. After that she had given up on her worries for her caretaker. If the Dark One wanted to starve himself for the sake of fancy cloth, Belle was in no position to stop him.

Swishing and cracking, clicking and creaking became the rhythms of the Dark Castle. Belle found herself scrubbing to the beat the loom created, crossing rooms with footsteps that followed the pattern of sounds, stacking dishes so that clatters and cracks matched perfectly, completely unaware of how the sound was shaping the pace of her movements until they stopped and the sound continued. She wondered how the cloth related to Jerrold’s brother, but wasn’t about to go poking Rumplestiltskin for answers. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist explaining everything to their prisoner when the time came. If it were ever to come, of course.

Somewhere in one afternoon in a series of days that Belle had now lost track of, a sense of eerie stillness settled over her. She paused in her dusting, frozen by a fear that felt completely unwarranted, but as real as the knowledge that someone was standing directly behind her, breathing down her neck. Spinning in place, she found no one and mentally scolded herself for such nonsense, only to be jolted into screaming when the doors to the great hall flew open to allow Rumplestiltskin to stride in.

It was in that moment that she realized the loom had fallen silent. “Rumplestiltskin,” she gulped, trying to pull air back into her lungs. “You’re finished.”

“What? You thought I’d be able to work beyond the limit of my supply?” The Dark One flopped into his chair and steepled his fingers as he stared at her in amusement. “Creating a ball of infinite string isn’t in my bag of tricks, I’m afraid. Though I know someone who _can_ give you such a trinket, if you’re willing to pay the price.”

“I… No, I…” Belle blinked and shook her head to force away the curiosity that reared up every time he dangled some magical tidbit in front of her nose. “It’s not that, I was used to the sound, is all.”

“Hm, well you won’t be hearing it again,” Rumple huffed as he scanned the table in front of him. “Was I mistaken or was one of your tasks to prepare my meals?”

Fighting a giggle, Belle gave a gentle curtsy. “Of course, I’ll get something right away. “

“And fetch the basket of sewing things from the storage room upstairs,” Rumple ordered as she hurried off. “The room you keep poking your nose in without my permission.”

Belle put her hands to her hips and turned on him. “I keep going in because that room is even more of a mess than any of the others. It needs sorting.”

“Then this is your chance to start sorting it.” Rumple smiled at her, eyes sparkling. Whatever sadness or regret that had consumed them before now seemed lost to time. “The basket and my meal,” he reminded her playfully. “Before my own stomach eats me alive.”

* * *

When the door to the cell rattled its way open, Jerrold didn’t bother getting up or even rolling over on his cot. His eyes fixed on the cold wall, blurred from its proximity to his face. There were tiny lines that he’d been following, imagining them as columns of ants, marching their way to freedom. The visitor wasn’t important, it would only be the maid, come to deliver something to eat, and while he was grateful to have decent food, the desire to eat it had drifted away on the back of his hopes of finding his brother.

“I don’t know about you, but when someone shows up at my door offering good news, I’m going to make certain to seem appreciative.”

The impish voice of the Dark One rattled Jerrold somewhere deeply inside. He felt his jaw clench as his teeth pressed into each other with such force that he could almost feel them shifting around inside of his mouth. “Where’s my brother?” The question rolled out of him like boulders tumbling down the side of a mountain in an avalanche.

“Safe and sound in your mother’s arms, of course,” Rumplestiltskin answered, his voice more cheerful than it needed to be. “But if you want to see the proof of that, you’ll have to do me one more favor.”

Jerrold thew himself at the Dark One without thinking, diving from his cot and lashing out at the man who stood in the doorway. His forward progress was stopped instantly with the simple raising of a scaled hand, but he felt no tightening of his throat and so growled out at the monster before him. “I’m _done_ helping you. I want to see my brother.”

“Oh, but you’re _not_ done.” Rumplestiltskin moved further inside the cell and circled Jerrold once while the door closed behind them. Once the lock clicked, Jerrold felt the freedom of movement come back to his limbs. He glanced at the exit, contemplating his escape, only to hear a tisking sound from his side. “Try as many times as you like, you won’t leave until _I_ say so.”

The Dark One moved to the cot, trailing a dark nail along the lines in the wall as if he had known all along what kept the man’s attention. “The way I see it, you still owe me that bag of gold, but since you didn’t deliver it, I’m going to have you deliver something for _me_.”

Faced with nothing else to stare at, Jerrold blinked at the dark, leathery armor on the back of the deal-maker. He fought the internal struggle of his mind, weighing the possible outcomes that could match with any answer he gave. If he said yes, would he be truly be free? If he agreed to help, could he not just run away? If he said no, would his brother be taken from them again? In the end, his loss was his own undoing. “Where do I have to go?”

Clapping childishly with joy, the Dark One spun on his heel and giggled. “Excellent choice. You’ll travel along the route I provide for you, to a simple cottage in the woods. It’s a long journey, but your needs will be provided for, and you’ll have the coins you earned from your previous excursion, to spend as you need.”

Generosity of this sort seemed at odds with the monster before him, but Jerrold simply nodded his agreement rather than question the Dark One’s motives. “What am I to deliver?”

“Why, the product of your labors, of course.” With a flourish, a skein of yarn appeared in Rumplestiltskin’s palm, brightly colored and finely spun. “There’s a single cart awaiting you at the castle gates, bigger than the ones you brought here, but easily manageable. You will follow the map exactly and be certain to settle at your destination before dawn on whatever day you arrive. Since you are so fond of camping on the doorsteps of others, you will wait outside with the cart until the resident notices you in the morning, at which point you will tell him only that you were sent to deliver these goods and _then_ you can be on your way.”

“Do I say they came from the Dark One?” Jerrold swallowed as he spoke, feeling the weight of the burden heavy on his shoulders.

“No, no, no,” Rumplestiltskin growled. “You’re not listening. You say _only_ that you were sent to deliver the goods. No names, no points of origin. Simply pass the goods on to the man of the house, then walk away into the morning.” The imp made a walking motion with his fingers across the palm of his other hand as if that would clarify the arrangement.

“But-” Jerrold didn’t have the opportunity to finish his question, the Dark One simply waved a hand in the air, stopping his speech. 

“Or run if you prefer,” he teased. “At that point you’d be free to do cartwheels all the way home if that sort of thing tickled your fancy.”

Jerrold heard no more, but found himself outside in the bright sun, squinting at an over-sized hand cart, piled to spilling over with baskets filled with yarns and string of every color imaginable. In the center, at the top, a slender bolt of fabric was tied around an unknown object, wrapping it in beautiful red, gold, and black floral patterns, tied with a purple ribbon. A folded parchment was attached firmly to the cart’s handle, dangling just far enough from the wood that it could be opened. Jerrold inspected it and found the map, so clearly marked that he felt even a blind man could have made the delivery. For a moment he considered abandoning the cart and running home, but then thought back on what the Dark One had said about the cart’s destination; a simple cottage in the woods.

“This would all fetch a good price,” he muttered to himself as he inspected the goods again, his mind whirling over what his own family would do with such things. They could weave fine cloth to use for clothing and make warm blankets for winter nights, and whatever was left could be easily sold in the market to pay for their meals and supplies. Looking back at the castle, then down the road that would take him away, Jerrold quickly made his decision. He lifted the handles of the cart and guided it easily toward the unknown cottage in a distant wood.

* * *

Even with all of the excitement of dancing and play that kept Grace’s mind whirling well after her father put her to bed, sleeping at the Dark Castle had been much easier than sleeping at home. She was comfortable here in the familiar space, and happy, but there was a kind of feathery lightness in her heart when she was with her Uncle Rumple, or helping Belle bake treats for their tea. At home she felt as if whatever that feeling was couldn’t quite get off the ground.

Her father felt it too. He didn’t ever talk about it, but Grace could see it in his eyes. There was a way that he smiled that told her he was remembering, a way that he suddenly stopped doing things and stared into something that she couldn’t see. Yesterday he’d almost burned their dinner as he gazed into the flames under the cooking pot and this morning he was sitting on his bed, staring at his hands.

“Papa?” Grace stumbled lazily over to him as she wiped sleep from her eyes. 

He snapped his head up, giving a bright smile and hurried from where he sat. Scooping her into his arms, he swung her around while hugging her close. “Good morning, my Grace.” His words were light and happy, making her hope today would be like the days before they’d left the castle. “What should we have for breakfast?”

Grace tipped her head, trying to think of something, but decided to shrug instead. Her papa was happy and she knew if she suggested something they didn’t have he would turn sad again. “I don’t know,” she told him. “What do _you_ want for breakfast?”

For this she got a tap to her nose and a kiss to her forehead before she was released to the ground again. “Should we go and see if there are any eggs?”

“Yes, please,” Grace beamed, hurrying to the door and pulling it open. She was about to rush outside, but the sight of a strange man sleeping beside a cart full of strings made her feel frozen all over.

“Grace?” She could hear the warning in her father’s voice and wanted to move away from the door, but she just couldn’t. The things in front of her were so strange that she simply didn’t know what to do. Her father’s shoes thudded out a rhythm as he hurried to her, then squeezed his way past to go out into the morning. “What are you doing here?” He sounded angry and scared at the same time.

The man jerked on the ground, then stood up quickly. “I was told to deliver this to your cottage. I can’t say any more.” And just like that, the man turned and left them, ignoring her papa’s questions as he walked away.

“Papa? What is it?” Grace crept forward, trying to peer around him so she could see the cart. It was a giant thing, bigger than any she had ever seen used by a single man, as large as some at the market in town that were pulled by mules. 

“It’s… A gift, I suppose,” her father told her. There was a worn map dangling from one of the handles and Grace watched him examine it, then shake his head. “The map tells him to stop here, but…”

Grace jumped up and down, unable to contain her excitement, even if all she could see was balls and balls of yarn and string. As she jumped she noticed the cloth sticking out at the top and pointed high for her father to see. “There’s a package,” she told him, smiling when he lifted it out. “Open it, Papa!”

Carefully her father picked at the ribbon, letting the shimmering purple sliver cascade to the ground once it was undone. When the wrapping cloth was free, Grace fondled the long side of it, enjoying the smoothness, her finger following the pattern of yellow and black on the background of red. “It’s almost like a garden,” she told him as she looked up, noticing the small basket the scarf had contained. “Open that too!”

“Just a simple sewing kit,” her father told her as he peeked inside. “Needles, scissors, a stone to sharpen them with…” He pulled out a small, rolled up note and began to read, his eyes growing sadder as he followed the words.

“What does it say, Papa?” Grace stood on tiptoe to try and investigate for herself, though she knew she wouldn’t be able to understand much. Belle had been teaching her how to read simple things, but adults used much bigger words when they wrote to each other. 

“Just that it’s a gift,” her father said, wiping at his eyes. “One we can keep or sell or make special things with.” He turned a smile at her and she studied him, deciding he really was happy, though his cheeks were wet with tears.

Grace picked up one of the thickest strings, a bright orange that almost glowed in her hand like fire. “Can we make something on our loom?” She imagined making blankets and scarves and tapestries like she’d seen in the Dark Castle and her heart thudded in her chest with the hope of having something new.

“We can make anything you like,” her father told her, scooping her up in his arms again. “Anything at all.”

Once she was back on the ground, Grace hurried to pick up the red wrapping cloth her father had draped over the arm of the cart and wrapped it around his neck. She twisted it and tucked it carefully in on itself the best way she knew how before nodding her approval. “And you must wear that, Papa. I think it is very charming on you.”

Her father laughed, holding out the note to her. “Do you know what? The person who made this named the pattern. It’s called Dancing By The Garden and since it was made just for us, I think you might be right.”

* * * Storybrooke - After the Final Battle * * *

When their mini vacation was over, the first place Belle wanted to go was Granny’s and Rumple, having learned that “yes, sweetheart” earned him many invaluable points on Belle’s score card, wasn’t about to argue. They’d arrived on a sunny morning and taken seats at a table outside because the outdoors seemed to be Gideon’s favorite place to be. Already they could tell that he was happier in the fresh air and sunshine, attentive to everything he could hear and every bright color he could find. Rumple was certain their son’s love of the outdoors was a result of his captivity by the Black Fairy, but Belle insisted that it was simply part of being a child.

This morning Rumple teased Belle about this ongoing disagreement through his conversation with Gideon. “You’re going to be an adventurer, like your mum. Lots of woodland paths and clear lakes to explore in the realms, hm?” Though she tried to brush off the comment, Rumple could see the blush in Belle’s face and the joy in her eyes, until they turned skyward, heavy with thought. “Belle?”

She smiled over at him after a moment, giving a little shrug. “It’s just so nice to be this happy,” she admitted. “To wake up in the morning and not even have to think about battles and curses and magic.” Her hand stretched across the table to catch his and squeeze it firmly. “We _finally_ get to be _us_ for a change. I like it.”

“As do I,” Rumple told her as he let his thumb lazily swirl at Belle’s wrist, a motion he stopped abruptly when a dark shadow spilled over their joined hands, consuming their flesh and half of the table’s surface.

“Jefferson!” Belle beamed up at the man who now stood beside them. “It’s good to see you!”

“If we’re interrupting, we can-” Jefferson gestured at Grace as he spoke, then thumbed over his shoulder in a motion that said he’d happily run off and not come back.

Rumple wouldn’t allow the man to make excuses any longer. “Nonsense. Have you eaten? Come sit with us.” He rose quickly and scrambled to shift an empty table and two chairs to stand beside the one he and Belle had already claimed. “We don’t often see you here.”

“Oh, we didn’t come to-” Again the man’s words were cut short, this time by his daughter.

“I wanted to say I was sorry for causing all that trouble the other day.” Grace’s eyes were sad and filled deeply with worry, it was a look that didn’t at all suit her. In fact, her sadness was so foreign to Rumple that he couldn’t help wanting to scoop her up and protect her from it.

He reached out for her arms, drawing her close, but refrained from doing much more. She was so much older now than she had been when he was her “Uncle Rumple”, she’d be ready for college in only a few years’ time, and he refused to do anything that could embarrass her. “Remember what I told you when you made that scratch in my chair?”

“That it was like gold,” she answered back right away.

“That the _memory_ was like gold. Well our little adventure yesterday might have made a scratch in our plans, but there are parts of it that I’ll remember as if they were shining bits of gold coating my past.” He released her and nodded to the chairs, but Grace looked at her father for permission before sitting. When Jefferson hesitated, Rumple put on his old Dark One charm and leaned closer to Grace, stage whispering at her while keeping a keen eye on her father. “I’ll tell you a secret… One of those memories involves your papa.” He winked at the other man, who groaned and finally dropped to the empty chair beside Belle.

Grace’s eyes went wide, reading the truth in her father’s face, then spinning around to the other adults for answers. “Really?”

It was Belle who answered, talking to Grace as she watched Jefferson’s reaction. “Your papa was _very_ grateful to get your uncle’s help,” she teased. “So grateful that he gave your uncle a big kiss.” The story was told as if she and Grace were two women gossiping around the village washbasins on laundry day and Grace ate it up.

Eyes wide with surprise, she stared at Rumple, then at her father, mouth dropping open in surprise when Rumple patted Jefferson’s arm and Jefferson blew a kiss across the table. She turned to Gideon and giggled. “I thought maybe I should call you cousin, but now, I’m not so sure…”

Rumple let out a pure and true laugh over Grace’s statement, one unlike anything he had ever felt inside of himself. “As if this family tree needed any more gnarled branches.” He suddenly felt lighter than air, brighter than the sun that shone down on them. He was happy, he realized. Truly and completely happy.

“Complications are overrated,” Jefferson said, blowing the words out as if he cared nothing about them. He leaned forward then, lowering his voice for Grace and nodding Rumple’s way. “Do you have any idea how long I waited for that?”

“But why didn’t you. I mean, before…?” Grace looked at Belle apologetically. “I mean-”

“No, it’s all right,” Rumple cut her off quickly, wanting to squash any of her fears of offense before they could sprout. “We could have, many times, even before Belle came to the castle, but some things are better left as playful games.” He lifted his eyes to meet Belle’s, worried that they might have pressed a nerve of jealousy, but her eyes sparkled with amusement and her smile couldn’t deny her acceptance of the strange friendship the two men shared. 

Jefferson huffed and waved his hand at the two of them. “No, _that’s_ why we never did before.” He pretended to be frustrated, but failed miserably, his smile spreading so far across his face that his hair shifted along with it. “Can’t interfere with true love,” he added afterward, this time in a tone of admiration.

“Well, now that things have settled down, who’s to say _you_ won’t find someone?” Belle snaked her arm over Jefferson’s and leaned closer to whisper. “Other than my husband…”

“All right, enough with that already!” Jefferson laughed so heartily that his body flicked itself backward, nearly tipping his chair and sending his arms and legs sprawling to regain his balance. The warm sound was music to Rumple’s ears, lifting his heart and clearing his mind of so much of the guilt it had accumulated. His friend somehow caught a whiff of his doubts, however, and sobered immediately. “You did everything you could,” he said softly, as if he were reading Rumple’s mind. “ _I’m_ the one who turned away from you.”

Rumple felt his mouth form a tight line across his face. He shook his head and fiddled with the metal napkin holder that glinted in the sunlight, desperate for any distraction. “I could have done more.”

“You sent us the baskets,” Grace piped in. “And the scarf for Papa.”

“We survived for a long time on what you gave us,” Jefferson told him. “I should have kept in touch afterward.”

“No,” Rumple sighed. “You were finished with my magical things. I knew it. That’s why I made certain everything I sent to you was gathered and made through honest work.” He thought about the cloth Grace mentioned and swallowed back the truth, but Jefferson had known him too long and read his expression like the headline of the newspaper.

“Except what?” The other man stared at him, but was met with silence. “Was the yarn magical? The string? The baskets? I know you, Rumplestiltskin, You wouldn’t have been able to resist using magic. Even when you give it up, you cling to it.” He gestured down the street toward the shop, where the proof of his claim sat on almost every shelf.

“I used the least amount of magic that I could. Belle saw everything,” Rumple announced, making Belle’s eyes go wide. He could almost feel the pages of their past turn in front of him as she sorted through their story to come up with the truth. Unwilling to watch her struggle, he prodded her memory gently. “After your time by the stream…”

His wife sat back, mouth open with surprise. “I _thought_ that had something to do with Jefferson.”

Grace looked from one adult to the other as a silence spread out on the table in front of them. “What happened?”

“When you left, your Uncle Rumple was very sad.” Belle’s voice shifted to the soft rhythms of a storyteller and Grace leaned forward to soak in the tale. “He sent me to the cabin in the valley and told me it was because I hadd done more work than was part of our original deal, but I always thought it was because he didn’t want me to see how much his missed both of you.” She twined her arm in Jefferson’s again and gave him a pat where her hand rested. “In the end he met a man who needed help and sent him to work off the debt of his magic. The price was the man’s wages, paid in wool and flax.”

Jefferson blinked at Rumple. “You spun all of that.”

“He wove the scarf too,” Belle pointed out. “I heard the loom going for weeks. He refused to eat or sleep until the work was finished, then he sent the same man to deliver it to you.” She thought for a moment, head tilting to one side. “Though… I’m not sure what the white elephant had to do with any of it...”

“The one we lost?” Grace turned to Rumple. “Do you still have it?”

So, here was the truth. They had come to the point where his horrible decisions had to be made plain. Rumplestiltskin swallowed the feeling of sickness that rose from his stomach and closed his eyes to the pain he knew would wash over his friend’s face. He couldn’t stand to see that now, not when everything between them was starting to be normal again. “Your father does,” Rumple admitted finally as he opened his eyes to stare down at his hands. “I wove it into the cloth I sent.”

“’I’ve woven this for you as a memento of your time at the castle. Wear it and always remember the days shared.’” Jefferson recited the words Rumple had written so long ago, words he didn’t need to hear because he still remembered them, words he never imagined the hatter would cling to as well. “I _thought_ that part of your letter smelled fishy. Not the days _we_ shared, just ‘days shared.’ So, what was it supposed to do?”

Rumple watched Jefferson fold his arms over his chest and scowl at him. Allowing the man a moment for his emotions, he waited before answering. “The elephant I gave Grace was meant to keep you together,” he explained, gesturing at Grace then Jefferson as he spoke. “I knew Regina would break every loving family she could when she cast the curse and I couldn’t live with the knowledge that I would allow the two of you to be separated.”

“And I left it.” The words were a sigh, Jefferson’s whisper of guilt as he realized how their fate had turned.

“He crushed it and spun it in with the fibers,” Belle told Jefferson. “And… Wove those into the fabric?” She looked over at Rumple for confirmation, even though the question seemed to be made of things she had already worked out. 

“It was the _only_ way I could think of to make certain that you would always have each other.” Rumple’s explanation came out in a rush, practically pouring onto the table between them. “I had a vision of you wearing it, I thought it would _work_.” He looked into Jefferson’s eyes, feeling his face tick with anxiety. “I had no idea the magic would twist as it did, making you _remember_ her, keeping you close enough to see her, but always out of your reach. I _truly_ meant the best for you. If I had known it would have caused you so much pain-”

His words were cut short by pressure on his arm and Rumple glanced down to see Jefferson’s hand clutching him tightly. “I forgive you,” he said as his eyes grew moist with unshed tears. “I’ve had the time to know _you_ , the _real_ you, both at the castle and here in Storybrooke. _I_ might not have needed Belle to see the man under all that _beautiful_ leather, but you did.” Jefferson stood, towering over them all and recasting his shadow through the space. “The Rumplestiltskin who called on the hatter to manipulate others and procure what he couldn’t wasn’t the same man as the Rumplestiltskin who played Keep Out Of The Kitchen and held an imaginary ball each night after dinner, but he was in there somewhere, the kind one. You just wouldn’t ever admit it to _yourself_.”

Rumple stood also, feeling his lip quiver as he forced the rest of his body to be still. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “So very sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jefferson said as he reached a hand out. “Not any more. I won’t let you apologize for the kindness Belle brought out for others to see.”

There was no containing the relief Rumple felt in that moment. It was as if the fog of sadness that had followed him for so many years had been blown away. Ignoring the outstretched hand, Rumple lunged forward, clasping his friend in a tight embrace that he hoped could convey every emotion that he couldn’t find the words for. Jefferson didn’t hesitate to respond, squeezing back with as much intensity until someone beside them cleared their throat.

At the steps of the diner, Ruby balanced a tray of food, eye raised suspiciously. “Should I tell Archie we won’t be getting the cabin after all?”

“Nonsense.” Jefferson laughed as he released Rumple, then dropped back to his seat in the causal way that was uniquely his own. “The three of you are going to need that space. Besides, Grace and I have plenty of room, if anyone decided to… change their arrangements.”

Rumple rolled his eyes at the merciless teasing, though he cherished it all the same. “Pancakes for everyone,” Rumple told Ruby, who winked as she walked away.

“How did you find out? I thought they weren’t telling anyone.” Belle whispered the question as other patrons walked up to take seats of their own.

Jefferson shook his head. “They aren’t, but Jiminy and I talked some at the picnic. He… might have read a little bit more into our interactions in the forest than Dorothy or Ruby.”

“Maybe I solved the problem with the gossip chain by creating a separate one myself,” Rumple groaned. “Nothing like throwing yourself into the pot for the sake of friendship, I suppose.”

“It was all about me, if you _have_ to know,” Jefferson insisted, pressing a hand to his chest in a graceful flourish. “Apparently he was worried I might have some kind of conflict among my emotions.” He reversed the flourish then, sending his hand fluttering to the table. “No, your reputation is safe. Most of our conversation at the picnic ended up being centered around fatherhood and how it changes everything.”

Rumple gazed into the carrier that was settled on the seat beside him. In it, Gideon looked up and cooed. “It does, doesn’t it?” He asked no one in particular. If Belle had been the compass that always pointed him back to his true path, then their son was going to be the light that shone through his doubts along the way. “Fatherhood changes everything,” he repeated as his mind began his next great scheme. 

Tomorrow he would talk to Regina.


	5. And She Wiped My Tears Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: This chapter ends with Rumple's visit to Bae's grave, it is hopefully written in a healing way, but do feel free to stop reading early. I made certain that a loving farewell is all that would be missed by skipping that final scene. (You will know when it is coming.)
> 
> The moodboard and my message about this chapter can be found [here](https://peacehopeandrats.tumblr.com/post/624630872694456320/mountain-streams-chapter-5).
> 
> The prompt for Chapter 5 was Breathless. I went unconventionally with this one again wanting to catch Rumple's emotions with the prompt, especially his constant fear of losing Gideon again. It sounds angsty, but I hope I avoided that sort of thing for the most part. I also wrote this chapter well before I had known of MareiQuiteContrarie's own loss and for a while was going to leave out the final scene entirely. In the end, I hope that what I have written here is not only a gift for July, but a virtual hand held out to offer some relief from the grieving process. 
> 
> All my love,  
> Your Secret Gifter

“I need another book.” Belle stretched her back as she stepped from the counter, fighting the stiffness that was the result of a day’s worth of taking inventory. Lines of detailed item information filled the last page of the ledger she’d been writing in, her neat script marking each item’s previous owner with a designated abbreviation or symbol for quick reference later.

Across the room from her, Rumple looked up, surprised. “Already?”

She smiled at him and set down her pen, then casually strolled across the distance that separated them. The store was closed, Gideon was napping, and Belle knew that Rumple needed a break as much as she did. Tipping her head just so, she reached out to him, running a hand across his back as she slipped up beside him. “Have you forgotten how long I’ve been helping you take care of all of your _things._ ” She emphasized the last word by imitating the way he’d half-sung it in the carriage so many years ago.

Rumple hummed and leaned back into the touch before turning to wrap her up in his arms. His eyes grew dark and playful before he kissed her, but he released her soon after. “I have that meeting with Regina at two,” he reminded her, though his tone suggested he was adding up the time and weighing the options for distraction in his head.

Not wanting to be what stopped him from taking this momentous step in their new lives together, Belle moved back, eying him with pride. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“Oh, I know,” he said quickly. “But I should have done it a long time ago.”

“You weren’t _ready_ until yesterday,” she reminded him, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Now that we have Gideon and our fresh start, you _are_.”

Shaking his head, Rumple closed the book he was writing in and turned his back to the work, giving Belle his full attention. “No, it was the day Grace ended up with the wrong comb that started all of this.” He sighed and Belle watched as his eyes took in the room, shifting to consume the shape and form of each item on each shelf. “Though, if I’m being honest, it began long before that.”

“You mean when she and Jefferson came to the castle?” Belle’s hand ran over his arm, caressing it where she could, feeling the heat of him under the silky fabric of his shirt. For some reason she had the need to make certain he was here, that he was real, that this day wasn’t a dream she could wake from. Watching him change hadn’t always been easy. There had been times when she’d cast him aside because the darkness of his curse had consumed him too completely, but there were other days when she’d seen the _real_ Rumplestiltskin, the man who tried with all his might to fight _through_ the darkness. Through them all, she never would have imagined that a day like this one would come.

“Yes,” Rumple said simply. “Grace asked one day why I kept so many things around the castle and I _told_ her I was collecting everything so I could find someone, but even when I said it, it felt wrong. Then Jefferson asked that last night, pointed out why I didn’t really need any of it and I knew he was right, but by then the addiction to my power had become too great to resist. I kept insisting I needed all of this and it drove the people I cared about away.” He lifted a hand to his chest as he spoke and Belle’s eyes followed the movement. “I told so many stories to so many people even my own heart started to believe them.”

Belle shook her head and moved her hand to cover his. “No. Your _heart_ knew the truth. The _curse_ changed the way you saw things, the way you _felt_ them. The _real_ you was always in here.” She pressed against him gently until a smile spread on his face. “And those of us that _truly_ knew you never really left your side. Jefferson sent me back to you and I-”

“You always saw the man behind the monster,” Rumple whispered as his free hand tenderly caressed her cheek.

“Not always,” Belle admitted. “I can think of a few times when I was less than accepting of the man that stood in front of me, even when I knew who was hidden beneath.” She thought of the incident in the mines, the night at the town line, and the day he’d woken her from her sleeping curse, then cut off the rest of the memories before they could string along in front of her eyes. Enough notes had been made today about the pasts and Belle refused to think further on the rubber band that had been their relationship. Rumplestiltskin was a Savior and even though that hadn’t been the factor that brought them back together, it was the one thing she could remind herself of for the future. She loved a man who was born to be a hero but whose fate had been yanked from him. It was a wonder he had been able to fight the darkness at all.

“No one can blame you for the way you felt.” Rumple pulled her close again. It was a simple act of affection that contrasted their previous flirtations, but Belle welcomed it. “I was like a twig on the ground, whole until I was disturbed and then I would simply snap.” She felt his hands make a motion behind her back that felt like someone breaking a stick in two.

“That was the Savior battling the draw of the darkness, a battle only _you_ could win.” She sighed into his chest, feeling herself deflate. There was a nagging guilt inside of her that she hadn’t been as understanding at times as she should have been. Knowing _now_ what his destiny was meant to be, helped a little, but she knew it would take time to properly settle into this new understanding of everything that had passed between them. They still had true love, she believed that, even after everything that tried to pull them apart in the past, they were still here, holding each other. “Sometimes I think you should blame me. I always told you I saw the good in you, yet when things were worst, I walked away.”

Suddenly he pulled from her, moving her to an arm’s length away so that he could study her, a look of pure curiosity on his face. “Why are we reliving all of this so suddenly? Are we _always_ going to revert to storytelling when one of us starts feeling insecure?” It was as much of a pure tease as it was a genuine question and it made her smile.

“I hope so,” she told him before reaching for the suit jacket that was draped nearby. “Our love _is_ a story. More than any other. Maybe we need to start looking at each of those partings from our past as the end of an old chapter and our reunions as the beginning of a new one. After all, some of the _best_ stories are driven by pure emotion.”

“We certainly had enough of that,” Rumple chuckled. He kissed her then, a light peck on the cheek that somehow held all the love in the world within it. “And _I_ promise that from now on our story will be a tale as old as time itself.” 

Belle watched as he left for his appointment at the town hall, feeling his parting words settle inside of her. Something about what he said felt more like an absolute truth than a promise that could be broken like so many of the others. She had doubted words like those before, or at least thought about it, but not this time. Now she was as certain of their lives together as she was that she needed air to breathe. There would be no more abandonment, no more anger, no more arguing over right or wrong, no more rules on magic. Her new life with Rumple was going to be something very, very special.

* * *

Soft white light spilled in to the corridors of the town hall, bleaching the normally warm yellow tones into a shade of white that almost matched the trim around the door Rumplesiltskin couldn’t bring himself to open. Instead he studied the curves and crisp lines of the new lettering on the glass.

_Regina Mills  
Queen_

He hadn’t been in since that alteration had been made and it struck him hard in the chest. Since Gideon’s return so many things had changed for him, for Belle, and for their son, but they had changed elsewhere too, for so many in Storybrooke. Emma had so often complained about how she didn’t want the responsibility that came with being the Savior and he’d often scoffed at such comments, but now that he was standing here, facing an alteration that was, in part, a result of his own actions, he felt he understood. He also felt he wasn’t ready.

The moment he decided to turn on his responsibilities and stepped away from the door, it opened and Rumple turned just in time to see Grumpy exit the office. The dwarf looked up as he closed off the room he’d just left and walked away, eyes widening with surprise when he caught sight of Rumplestiltskin. He quickly called out in an uncharacteristically cheery voice. “Rumple! How’s the boy?”

“Fine…” Rumple was honestly unsure about how to handle this conversation. It was true that Belle and Grumpy had a history of friendship between them, but _he_ had never found much reason to spend time with the dwarf, let alone talk to him. Passing out food to someone who had spoken against you weeks ago was one thing, especially when it had been a delivery from someone else, but chatting with that same person in the hallway as if you were old friends was an entirely different matter. 

Grumpy gestured at the papers in Rumple’s hands, drawing attention to the fact that he had them clutched at his chest. “She’s in there if you want to deliver that. A lot of work to be done now that things are changing.” He paused to read Rumple’s expression, then reached out to clap him on the arm. “Hey, That’s a _good_ thing.”

“Oh, it is,” Rumple agreed. “Without a doubt. Should be nice to have a few normal days, I suppose.” He hated himself for stumbling over this conversation, for being caught vulnerable and unsure. He felt as if all of the air were being sucked from the hallway. If Belle were here, she would nudge him into saying something more productive, she would ask about the mines or the other dwarves, or say _anything_ beyond his clumsy replies.

Wide grin softening, Grumpy stepped closer. “Look,” he said gently, tone hushed as if he expected someone to wander through the empty corridors and overhear them. “I’ve been an outcast too. That transition from Dreamy to Grumpy? It hurt, but it was the right thing in the end. If I’d run away with Nova, I never would have met Snow and I can’t even begin to understand how different things would have been. Now… Things might be a little different. Sure, people are going to look at us and some will point fingers, but we have _love_ on our side. And Belle’s the one who taught me not to give up on that. Time will settle things for you,” he added as he removed his hand and stepped away. “It ain’t easy, but you’ll see the true Rumplestiltskin soon enough.”

For reasons that he couldn’t explain, Rumple found himself calling out to Grumpy before he could turn the corner. The dwarf froze in place, half turned, still smiling, and waited. 

“I um… I’m sure Belle would be glad to have the two of you to our place some time. For dinner, perhaps?” His hand made gestures as he spoke, reaching for the direction of his home, then joining its partner in clasping the papers at his chest as if they were some kind of magical barrier shielding him from his vulnerability. “If you ever wanted to find some peace in a place without expectations, I mean. No pointed fingers.”

Grumpy was still for just long enough that Rumple worried he’d overstepped his boundaries, but before long that large grin crawled its way across the dwarf’s face. “Sure,” he beamed. “We’d love to.”

“We would be happy to have you, Belle especially.” Rumple breathed out a sigh of relief as Grumpy nodded sharply before saying his goodbyes and leaving him to gather himself in the hallway. A sense of pride came over Rumple that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. This felt like some kind of obstacle course that he’d barely completed. Heart pounding, he took a shuddering breath to calm his nerves and wondered if every post-battle interaction was going to be like this for him now.

“Rumple?” Regina called out from her now open door, centered under the thick white frame, hand on the knob as if she’d been startled, mid stride. “I was about to come find you.”

“Sorry,” Rumple managed, waving the papers in the direction Grumpy had gone. “Stopped for a chat. Do you still have time?”

“For you? Always.” She smiled at him, a genuine flash of teeth and carefully painted lips that should have warmed him but instead added more insecurity to his already frayed nerves. Stepping aside to let him pass, Regina gestured in to the black and white room with a courteous bow of her head. “Please.”

Rumple entered, striding across the floor on his way to the desk only to be called away.

“I think the sitting area is best for us,” Regina told him, motioning to the sofa and the fireplace it faced. With a snap from the queen flames popped up from the logs, bathing the area in light. “After all, we’re just two old friends discussing the progression of their careers. Or, perhaps, a change in one, if I’m interpreting our previous conversation correctly?”

He couldn’t help chuckling and settled stiffly onto one end of the sofa, hand still clutching the paperwork that outlined his proposal. “Same career,” he corrected, “But a slight shift in function.”

“So you are closing the shop.” Regina sat back in the chair she’d taken, draping her arms along the sides in a stance that radiated her disbelief. 

“No,” Rumple promised quickly, holding up a hand to wave off that worry. “I’m afraid without it I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Regina shrugged. “You could go back to spinning.” She thought on that for less than a second, then added quickly, “I mean _real_ spinning, not gold.”

“I did give it some thought, actually,” Rumple admitted. His mind flashed back to the night before, when he and Belle had stayed up well into the night, holding each other and discussing options for what to do once his plan reached its end. They had talked about his joining her at the library, about opening a craft store, and about simply spinning away the days, but none of the plans had appealed to him. Gold’s pawn shop was an important part of Storybrooke and Rumple was determined that it maintain that prominence, even if it was under different circumstances. “There didn’t seem much need for a spinner in a modern town like Storybrooke,” he said at last. “I’m afraid that even if I turned the pawnshop into a craft store my list of customers would be rather limited. At least as things are now I can still make repairs, restorations…”

“And yet you’ve come to me with a mysterious proposal that deals with the redistribution of your inventory,” she reminded him, gesturing at the papers that were swiftly crinkling in his grip. “I honestly don’t see what any of this has to do with my office.”

“Having Gideon return to us has given me a new perspective on things,” Rumple explained, finally relaxing. “I truly don’t want to be the man that I spent so many years becoming. I’m ready to be a father and a husband, I want to settle into this chance we’ve been given, leave the rest behind.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” Regina leaned forward, emphasizing the repetition of her previous question in a tone that bordered annoyance. “But what does it have to do with my office?”

“Grace’s accidental portal jumping the other night, combined with something that was said to me many years ago, has made me realize the futility in keeping the things that I have in that shop. There was a time when I collected all manner of items because I needed them, I thought they would help me get here or find Baelfire, but now, with Bae gone and Gideon in my arms, I’m starting to realize Grace and Jefferson were right.”

“I don’t follow.” The queen sat back again, interested, if confused.

Rumple handed over the papers and she took them, eyes scanning the pages, even as he explained. “I want to return everything,” he told her. 

Regina’s eyes went wide. “Everything?”

“Well, anything in my possession that the citizens of Storybrooke have a legitimate claim to,” Rumple amended. “Every magical item, every personal possession, and if there is no owner, I will make a collection of unclaimed items to hand over to the faeries.”

“You really _have_ turned over a new leaf,” Regina teased. “Rumplestiltskin willingly working with the fairies. Whatever will happen next?”

He rolled his eyes. “My father in law accepting his grandchild as his own flesh and blood?”

Regina’s eyes left the papers for a moment and she gave him an apologetic look. “Still, I don’t understand what this has to do with my office. Can’t you simply advertise in the paper or put a sign in the window?”

“If you announced to the town of Storybrooke that every heart in your vault, whether from your mother’s collection or your own, was available to be reclaimed, how many people do you think would be fighting each other to get through that door?” Rumple jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the room’s entrance, eyebrows raised.

“Point taken,” Regina conceded. “How can I help?”

Rumple settled properly into the sofa then and proceeded to work through the plan with her, feeling truly comfortable for the first time since he’d arrived. It felt good to be scheming again, even if everything he was plotting was for the good of the community. As they worked, he wondered how long it would take for situations like these to become less frequent and for random conversations like the one in the hallway to become his new normal. The change would be welcome, whenever it came. He was ready to put the coward to rest, set aside the darkness, and just be a man who loved his wife and son to the moon and back again.

They discussed how the town would need to organize a notification schedule, and how he wanted to work with the fairies to make certain that every item returned not only went to the proper owners, but that it was agreed on the highest magical authorities that items with great power were only given to owners deemed responsible enough to keep them safe. Both Rumple and Regina agreed that schedules would have to be made and coordinated with the convent so that someone could be present at each exchange. Regina questioned the involvement of the fairies several times, but eventually stopped when Rumple pointed out that though opinion of him had changed in their very extended family, regular townspeople would be reluctant to take him at his word.

“This will be a big event,” Regina said at last. “You sure you’re up for it?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t,” Rumple huffed back.

Regina shook her head. “I don’t just mean for the shop. As mayo-” She stopped herself and closed her eyes against the mistake, then corrected it. “As _queen_ … I feel it’s my right to make certain this is what you really want. I can work with you to set up a schedule and send town-wide announcements when each person’s name comes up on the schedule, but I can’t guarantee that everyone coming through your door will be as cordial with you as they should be.”

“I know.” A sigh escaped him and his mind went back to the day he was searching for Belle, how no one would help him because of all of their grievances against him. “I never expected it to be easy, but if I learned one thing from the events that freed us all from my mother’s curse, it’s that doing things for the _right_ reasons brings the best reward anyone could hope for.”

* * *

The first stars of the evening were just beginning to shine in the sky when Blue reached the porch of the Dark One. In the evening light, the pink Victorian siding seemed almost purple, a visual that she found particularly fitting. The pile of green steps beckoned her to the stained glass entry at their peak, yet she hesitated, choosing to study the building as much as she could before daring to enter.

The glow of several lights filled the clear glass of the lower windows, and a fainter shimmer came from the floor above. Shadows moved about in each, but weren’t distinguishable and she wondered which of the homeowners would be answering once she knocked on the door. Upstairs, one shadow lengthened, stretching a long shape high to the top of the window and forming a small blob at the end. Someone was upstairs with Gideon, she surmised, lifting the boy into the air. Her heart fluttered and her breath caught at the thought of seeing her godchild again, but then it sank at the same notion. She wasn’t used to making mistakes and her short lived guardianship over the Golds’ only child had been one of the largest errors of her existence.

Swallowing down a guilt that she found quite unsettling, Blue quickly ascended the steps and rapped lightly on the door, three taps in quick succession. She barely got the third out before it opened and she found Belle smiling at her happily.

“Blue!” The woman leaned forward to give her an unexpected hug, then stepped aside to grant her entry. “Come in! Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

“I wasn’t certain I would be welcome, considering…” She shrugged, eyes drifting to the stairs that bent over themselves beside the door and led to whatever room was occupied. If Belle was here, then it was Rumplestiltskin upstairs with Gideon.

Belle waved her off and left the entry for their sitting room, gesturing at one of the elegant red chairs. “Do you want anything? Tea?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Blue sat gingerly at the edge of a high backed chair that faced the cold fireplace and stared into the darkness of it as if it would hold all of the answers to the questions buzzing in her mind. “I actually came to speak with Rumplesiltskin.”

When she lifted her eyes, she found worry in Belle’s expression. “I see,” the woman answered with less cheer than before. She schooled her expression quickly and stepped easily out of the room. “I’ll go get him for you.”

“No need.” The Dark One’s mildly accented voice rolled down at them from the stairs, bubbling with happiness. Blue twisted in place to see him descending the final steps while playing with his son’s small hand. Gideon, wearing sleeping clothes and wrapped in a light blanket, burbled at his father’s smiles and nonsensical whispers, the two of them trapped in their own little bubble that Blue hated to burst. “Do we have visitors?”

Blue stood then, nodding her head to him in greeting. “Regina told me about your upcoming plans.”

Rumplestiltskin met her gaze, his face hardening at the sight of her. It looked more reflexive than something done by choice, because after a moment or two, his eyes softened and he allowed the smallest hint of a smile that felt entirely genuine. “And you came to see what kind of dark scheme I had in store for the town of Storybrooke.”

“I will admit to being uncertain of your motives,” Blue agreed. “But more because what you propose is a grand undertaking.”

At this, the Dark One shifted his weight, taking a defensive pose as his eyes narrowed, the grip on Gideon tightening, pulling the boy closer to his chest. “Then let me put your mind at ease. The decision to return everything wrongfully taken from the citizens of Storybrooke was entirely mine. It came about because of a series of events that centered around one of my friends.”

“Jefferson,” Blue put in quickly, to show him she knew the story. “Or perhaps more specifically, Grace?”

“I prefer not to separate them,” Rumple told her simply. “That’s a torment they suffered for too long. They don’t deserve to live through it again, even in conversation.”

Surprised, Blue nodded, accepting this fact. “I was curious about your inclusion of the fairies. Certainly you know as well as anyone which item belongs to whom.”

“If I broadcast to all of the town that my magical inventory is up for the taking, do you _really_ believe that anyone would trust me?” He sighed and moved to a seat by the fireplace, settling Gideon in his arms even as he settled himself. “I have first hand experience of what the people of this town think about me.”

“So you need us to speak for you?” Blue tipped her head, sure that there was more to this story than that simple need.

“My plan requires any fairy of your choice to remain in my shop for the scheduled appointments made by anyone making a claim. I expect that volunteer to first assure the customer that their property is, in fact, being returned with no debt attached, but, most importantly, I will require them to screen all potential owners before each return.”

Blue shook her head. “Screen them for what?”

“Right now every magical item in my possession is stored away, unused. And being idle, they are causing no harm to person or property. Take those _same_ items and put them into the hands of people who might have had no no business owning them in the first place, or who could have stumbled on them accidentally before I snatched them away, and more upsetting events like those of the other night are bound to happen.”

Shock filled Blue in such a rush that she could almost feel herself expanding from it, eyes widening, body lengthening, and mouth dropping open, all before she could stop it. Though she did try and recover her poise, she could tell the damage was done. Both Belle and Rumplestiltskin stiffened under her gaze, gaining a look of uncertainty as the silence between them built to an oppressive level.

“My apologies,” Blue muttered at last. “But few have ever shown a care about which people control magical items.”

“I don’t want anything in the wrong hands,” Rumplestiltskin said simply. “And beyond myself I trust only the fairies to make those decisions.”

Blue stood, lowering her head in acceptance. “Then I will gather some volunteers. I assume you have a list?”

“We’ve been going through our entire inventory.” Belle jumped in with eagerness, hurrying to a nearby table that was piled with thick books and papers. She gestured at the stack, then lifted a single ledger and offered it to Blue. “We’re cataloging everything. It won’t be done for another week or more, though.”

Skimming the pages, Blue found her head nodding in acceptance of the work. “This is very detailed,” she told Belle before closing the book and handing it back. “But I would have expected nothing else from you.”

“It’s a joint effort,” Belle reminded her, still smiling. 

A creak of floorboards made Blue turn to discover that Rumplestiltskin had risen from his seat and was crossing the distance between them. “I’m grateful for your help,” he said softly. “Especially if it means we have some chance of working together.”

“Unusual words coming from the Dark One,” Blue scoffed, though she hadn’t quite meant to.

“They’re coming from the father of your godchild, actually,” Rumplestiltskin corrected her before holding the bundle that was Gideon out for her to hold.

Stunned, Blue stared at the boy. Part of her yearned to hold him, but the memories of the night she’d battled the Black Fairy rushed past her vision, making her head spin with uncertainty. “Belle entrusted him into my care once before,” she murmured softly.

“And _I_ want you to know that I believe she made the right decision,” Rumple told her. “Even if it was for emotional reasons, even if the actions taken that night led to my son’s years in captivity. That time has been _erased_ for him. He’s not that tormented man any longer, any more than _I_ am the same man from weeks ago, when I was fighting in every way I knew to protect him. If the Dark One gets a second chance, certainly the Blue Fairy deserves another as well.”

“Please,” Belle whispered from beside him. 

Blue felt her arms lifting before she even realized they were in motion, but the bundle was moved away before she could properly reach for it, leaving her hands hovering in empty air.

“There is _one_ condition,” Rumplestiltskin amended as he cradled his son close again. Blue looked into the brown depths of his eyes, searching instinctively for the trickery that would follow. “If ever Gideon finds himself without his parents, for whatever reason, you _will_ watch over him for us.”

The words were pure and truer than any Blue had ever heard the Dark One speak. She could practically feel the light of them reaching out to her from his heart and so she nodded again, certainly and eagerly. “Yes, of course,” she swore. “Wherever he should be, for whatever reason he would need me. I _will_ go to his side.”

A moment later, a small, soft bundle was settled in her arms and Blue found herself smiling down at her own second chance. “Hello, Gideon,” she beamed. “I’m your fairy godmother.”

* * *

_”Papa! Papa!” Gideon’s high pitched cry echoed through the Dark Castle and made Rumple look up from his spinning just in time to see his son, flying over his head._

_“Watch the wheel,” he scolded, instinctively reaching to catch the large curve in front of him so that it wouldn’t get jostled. Beneath him, the stool he sat on suddenly jerked to one side and he glared over at the man responsible for Gideon’s flight._

_Jefferson cringed apologetically, mouthing the word “sorry” before flying Gideon away, lifting him up high into the air then dipping him low for a landing near the main hall’s fireplace. Behind them, a five year old Grace came in, galloping around on a broom that her father had converted into the form of a horse._

_“Princess!” Jefferson gasped, pointing at Gideon with exaggerated excitement. “The dragon almost destroyed the village! It landed just over there!”_

_Beside the fireplace, Gideon made snapping and growling sounds._

_Grace dashed over to Rumplestiltskin and tugged eagerly on his sleeve. “Villager, will you help to save your home and join the fight against this angry creature?”_

_Letting out a hum of thought, Rumple pretended to weigh his options, tapping a scaly finger on his chin. Finally, he shook his head. “I’m very sorry princess, but I’m not a man who uses swords on dragons.”_

_“Oh, but we aren’t fighting him with swords!” Grace laughed. “The dragon is hungry! We must fight him with food!”_

_Rumplestiltskin blinked at this. “Are you asking me to throw food so near to my own home? What if it splatters all over the walls?” He flourished his hands through the air to indicate the room they were in, then leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. “Are we_ really _doing that?”_

_“No,” Grace whispered back. “Belle is coming with dinner. She told us all to go play somewhere else.”_

_“The dragon is a known thief!” Jefferson called out from where he stood. “It_ snatched _a piece of roast meat right from the hands of a maiden!”_

 _“And you’re_ certain _the dragon didn’t have any help with that?” Belle asked as she entered, bringing the last of the serving platters to a suddenly filled table._

_Jefferson dithered happily. “Well…”_

_“All right,” Belle announced, as she strode to Gideon and hoisted him to her hip. “Grace, lead your horse to the stable and come to dinner. Villager, you too. Blustery wind… Come bluster at the table.”_

_This announcement brought laughter from everyone, including Jefferson, who took the teasing in stride. Rumple left his spinning and joined the others, taking his usual chair at the head of the table. To his right, with her back to the windows, Belle sat in her own place, holding Gideon easily in her lap as she untied the cloth that was tied around his neck to represent wings. At his left sat Grace and beside her, Jefferson beamed over at them all._

_“This feels wonderful,” the portal jumper told everyone. “Having a large, happy family and a warm, comfortable home means so much to us.”_

_“Well we’re glad to have you here,” Belle told him as she lifted the fabric from Gideon’s shoulders and draped it on the back of the chair beside her._

_“So long as you stay through the curse,” Rumple insisted, wagging a finger toward Grace until he wriggled it close enough to tap the tip of her nose._

_She giggled. “Of course we’ll stay, Uncle Rumple! We can’t leave you again. Not when you’re so happy.”_

_Belle smiled and reached for the nearest platter of food, a large, silver thing piled high with steaming vegetables. Somehow she balanced it while Gideon wriggled in her lap, babbling the few words he knew while he reached for what she held. “Patience, Gideon,” she told him. “Guests first.” Her arm stretched to hand the food to Jefferson and caught the cloth in the process, dragging it from the chair._

_“Uh oh,” Gideon called out, pointing to it as it slid to the floor._

_The fabric shifted as it fell, twisting and stretching. It expanded beyond its original size and began to drift from the table, edges rippling like the fins on some fantastical sea creature. Swimming through the air, it drifted to the window, bumped into the panes, then turned back to drift along the table. Gideon reached up to try and catch it, but the cloth easily evaded his grasp._

_“Tell me you’re doing that.” Jefferson’s eyes followed the magical item, though it was obvious he was speaking to Rumple._

_“I’m not,” the Dark One said, feeling his chest tighten._

_In that moment, the thing, now as large as a bed sheet, pulled itself taught, surface stretched smooth from corner to corner. The cloth somehow seemed to be studying them as it hovered just beyond the table. It drifted in place the way ghost stories described the movements of lost spirits, the dark coloring of its surface now flickering as if someone were holding a flame up behind it._

_“What’s it doing?” Jefferson wanted to know._

_Rumple sneered at the thing and stood. “I have no idea, but we’re putting an end to it. Now.”_

_Before he could take a step, two corners of the fabric lashed out, stretching to unnatural lengths. They latched themselves to the children, one ghostly arm circling each. Like a shadow, it had no concern for space, simply snaked around the torsos of Grace and Gideon, ignoring their proximity to the protective Jefferson and Belle. Though the parents clung hard, the darkness pulled harder, and with a desperate scream, both children were suddenly yanked away, limbs flailing in the air._

_“Gideon!” Rumple let out a long, primal scream that blended with both Belle’s and Jefferson’s cries of anguish. Each of the three syllables seemed to take an eternity to formulate in the air, and by the time the final sound left his throat, Rumple felt his lungs burning from need of air._

With a jolt, Rumplestilksin sat up, gasping. His hand clutched at the cloth on his chest, feeling the silky smoothness and absently fiddling with the buttons lined down the front, hoping to ground himself. The room he was in was completely dark, but by feel alone he could tell that the clothes he had on weren’t the same as what he could have sworn he’d just been wearing. 

_A dream,_ he thought to himself. _It wasn’t real. It was all a dream._

Gideon was safe, as was Grace, who was much older here in Storybrooke than she had been moments before. A fussy cry from beside the bed reminded Rumple that the opposite was true for Gideon. His boy was only a baby, needing to be held and cared for.

Standing, Rumple hurried to the bassinet and lifted his son to his arms. “There…” He kept his voice to a barely audible whisper as he gently rocked his son in a soothing rhythm. He thought about the Sands of Morpheus and tipped his head as he considered the possibility that the nightmare he experienced had been shared. “Did you dream with me?” The two moved away from the bed and into the room’s sitting area, far from where they could disturb Belle. As he spoke, Rumple checked that Gideon was clean and dry, then settled himself into the rocking chair they had just added to the decor. “Not your hungry cry and you’re all clean. What is it, son? Did you remember something from before?”

“Do you think he could?” Belle’s sleepy voice rasped its way across the room.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Rumple stared into Gideon’s face as he spoke to his wife, tipping his head to rest it back on the cushion tied to the top of the chair. The position strained him, but he simply couldn’t take his eyes from the beautiful gift he’d been given.

The sounds of the creaking bed and quiet footsteps told him Belle was coming to join them and within moments her fingers were running through his hair, tempting him to close his eyes. It was a strange feeling when her fingers stopped short so easily and were forced to repeat the motion much sooner than either of them were used to. He decided he would have to grow it some, make it just long enough for her to play with again. “You’ve jumped from the bed every night this week,” she told him softly. “I promise our son isn’t going anywhere.”

“You can’t make that promise,” Rumple insisted. “No one can.”

Belle’s fingers left his hair and her arms draped over his shoulders from behind. Her warm breath caressed his head now, whisking over him like a gentle breeze. “Your mother is gone. The town is safe. There is no one here who would want to do harm to our son. You can _rest_ , Rumple.”

“I can’t, not until I’m rid of this curse.” He tipped his head back to try and look up at her, but couldn’t see more than her long hair that dangled around his face as she began to pull away. His eyes followed the shape of her in the darkness as she circled the chair to squat low on the floor, her chin level with his knee. Rumple only spoke again once she was settled, her finger held tightly in Gideon’s small hand. “Returning what doesn’t belong to me doesn’t end this, Belle. We _both_ know the hold this darkness has on me, the addiction it created. What if-”

“No,” she told him sharply, though her voice was quiet for the sake of Gideon. “There aren’t any more ‘what ifs.’ I’m not asking you to give up magic, Rumple, not any more. I understand how hard that would be for you. I’m only saying that you’re making the right choices. You’re doing the right things. _You_ can be the Dark One that uses his powers for _good._ You’re a savior, no matter what was taken from you, _and_ you’re a hero. _I_ believe in you, even if you can’t believe those things yourself.”

Rumple carefully leaned forward until his forehead touched hers and let out a long breath of contentment and relief. “I need you,” he said. “I need _both_ of you to help me. I might not be able to rid myself of this curse, but I _can_ stop using it.”

“What do you mean?” Belle pulled away to stare up at him, her eyes as dark and gray as everything else in the room.

“Magic. I wasn’t born with it, it simply consumed me. And if I could live without it once, I can do it again.” Rumple adjusted Gideon so that the boy was resting on his lap and offered a finger to hold, then reached his free hand for Belle, who took it. Now each of their hands was contained within the grasp of another and they encircled themselves in their love. “Promise me that you can both help me leave magic behind. I have you, I have Gideon, I don’t need anything else in any realm beyond _this_ family.”

The whites of Belle’s teeth shone in the darkness, revealing the smile that spread over her face. She squeezed his hand tightly and nodded once. “I promise. And what about you, Gideon? Can you promise too?” Her finger wiggled back and forth until she coaxed a baby’s grin from him and she beamed back. “I think we can call that a ‘yes.’”

* * *

At eleven fifteen on the first day of the pawn shop’s reopening, the bell above the door tinkled merrily and Belle looked up from the register to see Archie’s smiling face.

“I had a letter from the Queen,” the man said after the two shared cheerful greetings. He brandished the folded paper in front of himself as proof of his claim, though in its folded state Belle couldn’t have been able to distinguish it from his power bill if she’d been asked. “I’m afraid I don’t really understand what’s going on.”

“Well,” she began, setting a stack of money back into the drawer before closing it with a metallic clank. “Rumplestiltskin has decided it’s best to return any of the items in this shop not put here at random by the curse. Everything magical and all property that he acquired through deals or otherwise is scheduled for redistribution to their original owners. He wanted you to be the first beneficiary. ”

Doctor Hopper shook his head, a motion that went contrary to the words he spoke. “Right. I just... I don’t _have_ anything like that. Or, at least, not that I know of.”

“You don’t,” Rumple announced as he left the back room with two boxes, balanced carefully in his arms. Belle took stock of the size and shape of each, then let the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in a sad, understanding smile. She thought it was fitting for this to be his first return.

“Then I don’t-” Archie began, but Rumple didn’t let him finish.

“You know someone who does,” he said quickly, voice softening with every word. “And I’m afraid that you were the only one I could think of to help me do the right thing by the family who suffers from this loss.”

Archie glanced at the boxes, eyes wide, and seemed to be weighing his options before letting one shoulder roll up in a half shrug. “I’ll do what I can,” he said easily.

With genuine respect, Rumple set first one wooden container, then the other onto the counter and stepped aside. Unsure of what he should do, Archie looked from Rumple to Belle and back again until her husband lifted a hand to indicate Archie’s right to examine what was before him. Slowly, Doctor Hopper reached for one of the lids, lifting it to rotate open on its tiny, golden hinges. His eyes widened as he took in what he had been given and he opened the companion, presumably as a way of comparing the contents.

Each box was lined in a beautiful red velvet that was quilted by hand in a lightly golden thread. Inside, resting with their arms at their sides, were puppets whose heads rested on strangely shaped pillows. It took a moment for Belle to realize that the strings for each were hidden, carefully tucked behind the wooden bodies and she surmised that the pillows were actually the wooden sticks that were meant to control them, but covered in the same cloth as the interior. Her husband had taken great care to treat the two in a way that was as respectful for the puppets as would have been expected for their physical remains.

“I…” Archie stammered and swallowed, carefully closing one box, then the other. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you will go to Geppetto for me,” Rumple begged softly. He stepped closer and Belle grasped his hand tightly in her own, willing her strength to fill him. “Let him know that I am offering him the closure that I denied him so many years ago. I deeply regret treating them with such little respect.”

Doctor Hopper straightened against the weight of his task, but smiled all the same. “You are doing something wonderful here,” he assured them. “Closure in any situation is important, but to be granted it in this way…” He swallowed hard and took in a deep breath. “It feels right to ask me to help you with this. It will lift so much from both of us.”

A smile spread across Rumple’s face, it was sad and slow to appear, but it was there, and Belle squeezed his hand harder in a short burst, just to remind him that she was there. She waited for what felt like an eternity for either man to speak, but the room remained silent until she finally broke the stillness with the gentle nudge of her voice. “We thought you could leave them here, if you wanted,” she suggested tenderly. “And once plans were made…”

“Yes, of course.” Immediately Archie snapped to attention, head bobbing his approval. “I’ll contact you one we’ve spoken.” He strode to the door, but turned around before he touched the handle. “Rumplesitlskin?”

Rumple tipped his head to show he was listening.

“Thank you.”

* * *

They didn’t see Archie again until after closing, two days later, when he tapped politely on the shop’s window while peering inside. During the silence Rumple had found every excuse that he could to be near the window, glancing up and down the street for any sign of the man. He had seen a handful of people go in or out of the office in that time, but never caught sight of Archie himself. It was Belle who gently pulled him away from his surveillance, promising him that when the time was right, they would know what the decision was. Now that Hopper was here, Rumple found that he could only stare at the man’s distorted outline, body rigid against what might be said.

Belle ran a hand over his arm. “He’s smiling,” she told him as she waved Archie inside. “Stop expecting terrible news. I married Rumplestiltskin, not Grumpy.”

Archie cautiously tested the door, pushing on it gently. A look of surprise came over him as the knob turned and the door swung open. “I thought you were closed,” he explained, glancing over his shoulder at the street behind him, eyes wide.

Immediately put at ease by the other man’s amazement and cheerful nature, Rumple couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know, I think you’re the _only_ person who has ever read that sign.” He pointed a finger at the small rectangle dangling in front of the glass. “If I _were_ actually closing up for good, I’d make certain you got it.”

Something close to a giggle escaped Archie at the suggestion, but then a wave of seriousness swept over him. Rumple had to fight an instinct to clutch at his chest as he awaited what he was certain would be rejection, but Hopper’s tone was the soft and gentle one that he used as a therapist. “I spoke to Geppetto. He wanted to thank you for what you have done.”

“Why do I feel there is a ‘but’ on the way?” Rumple felt himself sag.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Archie insisted earnestly. “Geppetto simply wasn’t ready to make the journey himself. He asked me to come in his place.” There was a pause that was broken first by Gideon’s cry from the back room, then by Belle excusing herself to go see to him and Archie seemed to have to gather himself afterward. Swallowing down his emotion, he forced a smile. “Appropriate really, considering…”

“I don’t have your ability to find the rational explanations in everything,” Rumple told him as he brought the small coffins from where they had been tucked away. “But would there have been an August without this having happened? Would Emma have stayed in Storybrooke? Would my son have even spoken to me if these events hadn’t taken place?” An overflow of emotion wadded itself up in Rumple’s throat at the final question and he found himself having to swallow it down.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Archie said, head tipped to the side in that expression of innocent curiosity that only the cricket was capable of.

Rumple gestured at one side of the counter, then the other as if certain locations on the glass were points on a timeline. “August found Baelfire in New York, before any of us knew where he was. If they hadn’t befriended each other, if August hadn’t told him what was going on or that Emma was a part of everything here, she might not have come at all. Without August, Baelfire might never have allowed me back into his life.”

“Ripples in a pond,” Archie acknowledged, nodding slowly. “Yes, I see.”

“I don’t have the qualifications to judge what you did, and it might seem selfish of me to say this because of how these events benefited me, but I am grateful for _any_ sacrifice that reunited me with Bae.” Rumple put his hand over the lids of the boxes he had made. “Whatever I can do to honor those sacrifices is going to be done from this point forward.”

“The Dark One using his magic to do what is right... I thought you might be the one to fill that prophecy.” Archie reached for the boxes and Rumple removed his hand, but Hopper’s fingers hovered over the wood, refusing to make contact. “You know, it felt surprisingly uplifting to be able to bring closure to this part of my life. I should have expected that, but I didn’t.” He looked up at Rumple then, eyes soft. “I feel I must thank you again.”

Rumple gave him a smile which grew as an idea came to him. “Are you perhaps grateful enough to come work for me?”

“Work for you? What do you mean?” Archie looked in the direction Belle had gone. Gideon had stopped crying and there were soft murmurs coming from behind the curtain, sounds Rumple knew all too well as the quiet conversation between a mother and her child at feeding time.

“Yes,” he said easily, hoping to ease some of Archie’s concern. “I would be most grateful for your services as a counselor, not for myself, but for the people who might be coming to me. There are many who will need the same sort of closure that I have given you and I think your being available to facilitate that might ease the process for everyone involved. Besides, you have a way with speaking to people that I lack and I would prefer to present myself as trustworthy rather than have these acts turn people against me again.”

Archie shook his head, a movement so rapid that his hair bounced around his head. “Oh, I’d be happy to help you, Mister Gold, but I would prefer to volunteer to do it. I don’t need-”

“Nonsense.” Rumple stepped forward, narrowing his eyes in a conspiratorial way. “I’m the one who sold you the cabin, if you remember, I know what your plans are and what those plans will take. Waiting for your arrival here has also given me an opportunity to study the… traffic… around your office and I think it is safe to say that since the final battle the steady flow is gradually becoming a trickle.”

“Well, that’s just the nature of things,” Archie told him, obviously searching for a way to fight the feeling that he was suddenly a charity case. “I’m certain my work officiating weddings will increase in the next few months. That can easily make up for any losses in counseling.”

Belle arrived then, Gideon pressed to her as she gently rubbed his back. “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she said brightly, though with an apologetic smile and a duck of her head. “Sorry. Hard to ignore what is said on the other side of a curtain.”

Using his son as a prop, Rumple turned to stroke the boy’s cheek and ask if he was feeling more settled. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Archie all but dissolve. “I appreciate that you prefer to volunteer, Doctor Hopper, but I think we can both agree that providing you payment for your services is the right thing to do. I’m not the sort of man to leave a father penniless, after all.” 

Beside him, Belle’s lips twitched upward and Rumple smiled back, glad that she seemed to appreciate his mangled reuse of the words she’d spoken when they first met Robin Hood. “You just bought a house,” Belle pleaded with Archie. “You’re about to help Dorothy and Ruby start their family, one you get to be a _part_ of.”

“Well…” Archie made a face, uncertainty masking any of his other feelings.

Belle tried to hold up a hand while still clinging to Gideon and only managed a little roll of her wrist. “And that’s not my business, I know,” she added quickly. “It’s just that Ruby is my friend and as much as Rumplestiltskin wants to help you, I’d like to help her. I want to see _her_ happy as much as I’d like to know that some of what we have went into getting the three of you settled into whatever arrangement you make.”

With great reluctance, Archie nodded. “All right. Under those terms.” He smiled and reached a hand to Rumplestiltskin, who stared down at it until Belle gave him a playful nudge.

“That’s how people make deals _without_ a Dark One involved,” she teased, making everyone laugh.

Deal made and boxes in hand, Archie departed, promising to make himself available as needed. Rumple was certain that the man would soon have more time on his hands than he would know what to do with, which would be fine once the baby came along, but he knew all too well the torments of idleness while a man was waiting. “Do you think they are going to work that out?” He nodded at the door as he lifted Gideon from Belle’s arms.

“I’m sure they will. Dorothy and Ruby share true love, that settles just about any uncertainty,” Belle assured him as she returned to the work of packing up more items for pick up. “I doubt Dorothy would allow Archie to be the father of their children and then refuse him the chance to be a part of their lives.”

“Don’t think Ruby would let her,” Rumple huffed. He caught sight of the crystal orb in Belle’s hand and moved closer, shifting Gideon’s weight so that he could touch the smooth surface. “I had Jefferson steal that for me,” he told her. “Before Regina was the evil queen.” He closed his eyes to the emotions that began to flood him and stepped quickly away as if the crystal ball had shocked him.

Belle’s hand was instantly on his back, pressing gently. “It was a long time ago.”

“I used him.” Rumple felt his lower lip begin to quiver and fought the emotion. “I manipulated him to do things he wouldn’t ever have done himself.”

“He _was_ a thief,” Belle reminded him.

“Not the kind that I made him be,” he answered back, voice a little sharper than he intended. Taking a breath to calm himself, Rumple opened his eyes and apologized softly. “Maybe I could introduce him to someone… arrange for him to have another child. A boy Gideon could fall for when he gets older.” He rambled eagerly, the pace of his words increasing as he clung to the desperate truth that he wanted Jefferson to be a part of his family in any way that could be managed.

“He might want a girl,” Belle huffed gently.

Rumple gave her a doubtful look. “I told you the story of Roderick?” She nodded and Rumple flatly emphasized his point. “He’ll want a boyfriend.”

“Now you’re beginning to sound like my father, arranging a marriage before our son is old enough to stand.” The touch on his back lingered as Belle’s blue eyes sought his, diving deep. He felt examined and opened himself up to her completely, letting moisture fall down his cheek without guilt or shame. She reached up a thumb to wipe at the stray tear, but never diverted her gaze. “I know that what you are doing is hard, you admitted that to me the night you chose to take this step, but I don’t think it is the magic or the things themselves you are struggling to part with.”

Rumple blinked at her, feeling lost and confused, wondering what any of this had to do with Jefferson and Grace. He needed Belle, needed her wisdom to help ground him, and needed her love to help steady him.

“Baelfire.” Belle whispered his son’s name with such reverence that it nearly broke him, but as she continued on, he felt himself strengthening, even after the emotional fall. “Everything here, the people you know, all the magic you ever collected, even the darkness inside of you… You did all of this _for_ Baelfire, first to protect him, then to find him.” Her fingers left his cheek to card through his hair once.

“He’s gone. Not just lost, but well and truly gone, Belle.” Rumple shook his head and looked around the shop. “What you say is true, but why-”

“Because losing these things is like losing a part of him all over again,” she said softly. The words were almost a whisper, so gentle and faded that he had to examine each in his mind to make certain he heard them all. She had done it on purpose, he knew, to make him focus on thought rather than feeling. After a pause to let him process what she said, she gave him a warm, loving smile, and a suggestion. “Why don’t we go to the cemetery on our way home? Gideon would enjoy the fresh air and I can walk him around a little while you spend some time with Baelfire.”

Why was she so perfect for him? How had he managed to find the one person who would always truly understand him, even when he didn’t quite understand himself? Rumple’s heart soared at the idea and he nodded eagerly while trying not to whimper his reply. “I’d like that.”

Belle reached for the keys that were sitting on the counter and brandished them happily. “I’ll drive, you can sit with Gideon and tell him all about his brother.”

They closed the shop and moved to the car, settling Gideon into his seat. Rumple was more than happy to sit beside their son and tell him stories about his brother’s bravery, his strengths, and how they were finally reunited. He told the tale of Bae’s sacrifice, too, though he sugar coated it for the ears of small listeners. Belle was silent as she drove, but it was impossible to tell if she were listening or trying to give them as much privacy as possible, so he made certain to tell their son how wonderful his mother was, just to test her and he caught the slightest upturn of her lips in the mirror.

Once they arrived, Belle came to take Gideon, then walked Rumple to the grave. It was a settled place now, no lines of a fresh burial, no disturbed earth. Baelfire was where he would forever be. His death was a permanent thing, not something new or fresh, but an event that had slowly turned into a part of forever.

“We’ll see you in a little while,” Belle said before walking off with Gideon in her arms.

Rumple squatted down to rest a hand on the rich green grass, pressing it there as he closed his eyes. He wished he could press through, find his son’s arm and grasp it tightly, draw him close and never let go. “She’s right,” he admitted at last. Opening his eyes to speak to a point between the stone and the ground, Rumple sighed. “That’s what you’d tell me… And I believe you both. Bae, I _know_ I don’t need this magic any longer, but I need _you_. I need you to be here to tell me I can let it go, just the way you always used to.”

He closed his eyes again and listened to the world, the sound of the leaves in the trees, the birds, the occasional sound of Belle or Gideon, and then a memory from the past. The voice was deeper and the words had changed over time, but the truth of it was as solid as stone. _Think of it like walking across the hovel, Papa, Do it one step at a time._

“You’re right,” Rumple smiled. “You were always right, Bae, and I _am_ going to do it. This is the first step, letting go of the things I kept to find you… but someday I want to give Belle the adventure she has always wanted, and that’s going to take strength that I don’t think I have. We’re in a world without magic and if I show it to her, I’ll be powerless to protect her, to protect Gideon. I don’t know that I can be strong enough, but I _want_ to be.”

A wave of emotion came over him then, just as a breeze brought goosebumps to his flesh. “One step at a time,” he whispered to himself before standing up to go, but he hesitated, catching sight of Belle and Gideon in the distance. “I wish you could be with him,” Rumple said. “Take him around town when he gets old enough, show him the places you liked to go, teach him which pizza is the best…” The last thought came to him randomly and it made him laugh at himself. “If ever I can’t look out for him, I hope you will.”

Placing his hand to his heart, Rumple gave a warm smile. “I love you, son,” he said shakily before taking in a long breath and then stepping away, moving to Belle’s side, where he knew he would always belong.


End file.
